


Princess and the Dragon

by Scriva



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Hyrule Warriors
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-11
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2018-08-30 08:28:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 98,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8526013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scriva/pseuds/Scriva
Summary: They thought it was the hero who had defeated the dragon, vanquished evil, and saved the princess. They were wrong. It was the princess who saved the dragon. Volga x Zelda. Other eventual implied pairings.





	1. Curse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer :  The Legend of Zelda universe & Hyrule Warriors aren't mine**   
>  **Rating : Currently T. May subject to change with warning in advance to readers  
>  **All story links : | [Fanfiction.net](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11519430/1/Princess-and-the-Dragon) | [Deviantart](http://scriva.deviantart.com/art/Princess-and-the-Dragon-Chapter-1-Volga-x-Zelda-561732472) | [Archive of Our Own](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8526013/chapters/19543714) | ****
> 
> ******Author's Notes : Why Volga x Zelda? Various reasons: it’s sadly underrepresented, Zelda convinced Volga to free himself from the dark magic controlling him during the ‘Shining Beacon’ mission in Legend Mode, and because the idea of a princess and dragon began to appeal to me. Expect a heart-warming development, plenty of Volga’s perspective, and how the events leading up to Hyrule Warriors, during, and after will affect everything. Expect to see an attempt to give more depth to the characters with both fairy tale-esque (even parodic at times) and realistic elements to their world.** ** **
> 
> ********I have poured a lot of time and thought into my writing, so I hope you will give it a chance, and more importantly, enjoy! Reviews are always appreciated, both compliments and constructive criticism, so please don’t hesitate to let me know :]** ** ** **

* * *

Chapter 1: Curse

* * *

Some may have heard the tale of a beautiful woman who fell in love with a prince cursed in the form of a beast. Those stories would not be the ones Hylian parents would read to their child before bedtime. Whether mothers worried about the implications of such an intimacy, or fathers simply feared the unknown - most could not fathom the concept of affection for beings they associated terror with.

The reoccurring wars that plagued their lands was a more contributing factor. Their enemies could be regarded as "beasts" may that be because of their generally inhuman race, or by their atrocities. Countless lives were lost under the malice of their foes, driven by an ambiguous thirst for power in a cycle without end. These were the legends passed down through the ages, history taking priority over a seemingly impossible fairy tale.

Families wanted to tell their children something they were comfortable with, something they could foster their hope for. A hero worthy of being retold multiple times; whether as a poor farmer, or a charming prince - he would be the one they all looked up to. He would be the one to slay the dragon, final villain or otherwise. He would be the one to save the princess, and win her heart. This was what everyone wanted to hear, because it was what they were used to.

No one would ever know if the hero truly did win her heart, or why the dragon suffered. The pages would have been tailored to the tradition of the majority. Not to the few, if any, who would be intrigued by controversy, of unlikely friendships and untold romances. As such, these stories were rare, their dusty tomes hidden, and likely forgotten over time… like the very ones within this tale.

* * *

Lightning flashed across the night sky, illuminating the outlines of clouds that would have been otherwise impossible to see. Thunder roared in the air, the powerful sounds reverberating behind the walls of shelter within many homes. Even the walls of the mighty Hyrule Castle seemingly trembled with every clap, as if the storm challenged the sturdiness of its structure.

Solemn, grey eyes observed the heavy rain plastering behind a stained glass window that displayed the goddess, Hylia. The artwork featured a woman of questionable age, though resembling closest to that of a youth. Her long hair appeared to drape around her, like a golden veil. The piece could be interpreted as a design of a human woman - if not for the pair of unfurled wings protruding from her back, its feathers as white as her gown. Her eyes were closed, arms wrapped around an exquisite harp.

"Have you ever wondered," said the King of Hyrule absently. "Why is it that every illustration of our goddess shows her alone?"

The only other presence in the room shifted in the shadows behind the throne chair. Had it not been for the stark contrast of her white hair in the darkness, she would have blended within the surrounding. The Sheikah tilted her head in the direction of the window, her long braid swaying in front of her as she did so.

"I… never really thought about it, Your Majesty," she admitted. "Are you referring to Hylia, or the other goddesses?"

"I mean in general, but even just Hylia, who, by all accounts in history, had done much for our lands. How is it that someone who was loved by so many - is always seen by herself?" the king's voice turned mellow. "It's almost… sad, isn't it, Impa?"

Impa had grown used to the king's melancholy demeanor ever since he had lost his wife in the recent war. As a sworn bodyguard and dear friend to the Royal Family, she had taken responsibility to become more involved with the politics of the kingdom, and watch over his child, Princess Zelda.

With their lands still recovering from their last battle, and the pressing matters of rebuilding, Hylia's love life was the last concern in Impa's mind. But for the king's sake, she tried to put more thought into his musing of the day.

"It is my understanding," Impa began. "That it was very rare for anyone to be close to a deity, let alone see them. Hylia's Champion may have been the closest to a goddess, as far as we know. If Hylia had any romantic interest in anyone, the ancient sages would have kept this hidden from the world. And if such a cause was so grave that even Hylia herself would have kept silent about, then she must have had a good reason for keeping it a secret."

The king fell in a thoughtful silence, as the two listened to the thunder rumbling behind their walls. Impa had been about to offer to brew him a cup of his favorite tea, when a sudden knock boomed in the air from the doors of the main entrance.

They both tensed at the sound, before Impa instinctively reached for her waist. She unsheathed a sword that was almost as long as her body frame, its thick blade glinting with silver. Impa walked in front of the king protectively, irritated with the Hylian guards who were supposed to be on duty for the night shift. Why did they not warn them of this visitor?

"Who could possibly be out in a storm like this at this time?" asked the king, bewildered.

Impa leaned the side of her head against the door, her weapon poised and ready. "Who is there?" she demanded.

There was a pause, and a scuffle of footsteps. Impa could detect there was more than one visitor. "It is I," said a crisp, female voice from behind the door.

"The Guardian of Time,” the king breathed, instantly recognizing her voice. "Impa, let her in."

Impa unset the many locks that protected the castle, nimble fingers working through them with ease, foretelling her years of experience with locks. She was not as familiar with this… Guardian of Time as she felt like she should be. Visits from the sorceress were seldom, and when they did occur, they were arranged in a setting elsewhere, likely somewhere secluded and far from human eyes. Impa sheathed her weapon when she opened the door, but kept her hand close enough to the scabbard… just in case.

The sight before them was not something one would see everyday; a witch, a poe, a Lizalfos, and a… moving bundle in its arms. The lightning flickered behind them in the background, making each of their forms appear somewhat sinister. Impa watched them with guarded eyes, and the king addressed them.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" he asked, gesturing for the visitors to come inside, and giving a humble bow of his own.

Similarly to the artwork of Hylia, the Guardian of Time did not appear to have a discernible age. She did not look much older than a young adult, and yet, from what Impa knew, she was possibly old enough to have witnessed eras of lifetimes before her. Impa wondered if she had a name other than _Guardian of Time_ but if she did, she never cared to reveal any of this to them yet.

The sorceress tugged down at the hood she had worn during the storm, her lavender hair moist from the rain, but still in an immaculate condition, as if she had frozen it in place. A sliver of her white attire could be seen from the gap in front of her cloak.

When word of the visitors had reached the delayed guards, they cowered under Impa's stern gaze. The news spread to the castle servants, who quickly appeared in the hallway, offering to hang her cloak. "I apologize for the sudden appearance, Your Majesty," she said, returning his bow. “You know I would normally let you know in advance if we are to meet, but this situation was rather sudden."

"Do not worry, dear," said the king, beckoning all of them to the guest area where several plush chairs and couches had been situated in the guest hall. "Let us all sit, and be in a more comfortable environment. Forgive me for not being as gracious of a host as -" he broke off, unmistakable sorrow clouding his expression. "… As my wife was."

She shook her head, politely declining the drinks the servants began to offer her. "My condolences on your loss," she said quietly. "The lands are still healing from the recent war, and there is no telling if we will have even a decade of peace before the next war breaks loose. I'm sure your daughter will be as fine of a ruler as the queen was." There was something almost cynical in her voice when she spoke of the princess, that put Impa on edge. "Hm… how old is she now?"

"Two months," said the king, in a bittersweet tone. "She is all I have left, and she is precious to me. I pray to the goddesses that I will do all that I can to protect her. As I should have been more adamant with -" he trailed off, and sighed. "You must excuse an old man's grieving and rambling. May I inquire what the purpose of this visit entails?"

Impa found herself staring at the bundle in the Lizalfos's arms. What could this possibly be about? If there was indeed a baby there, it was remarkably quiet for being one. Especially in the presence of an eerie, reptilian humanoid. Though now that Impa had observed the creature more closely, she noticed the gold, ornamental rings dangling from either side of its head, like earrings. Either the Lizalfos was a female, or this was a symbol of status that marked them as chiefs - or both, of course.

"As I'm sure you have both suspected," said the Guardian of Time, her violet eyes following Impa's attention. "There is a baby with us. Or rather, I'd say roughly two years of age. This baby is in fact, the reason all of us are here." She turned to the Lizalfos. "You might want to begin."

The Lizalfos looked up at them from where it sat, likely unsettled by sitting on top of velvet, as opposed to rocks. "It wasss a day like no other in the Eldin mountains while I was hunting with my clan," the Lizalfos hissed. "My clan and I spotted what looked like two humansss, a he-human and a she-human. We normally avoid humansss because they can cause us much trouble. Even if they are very tasty."

Impa crossed her arms in her chest, as the Lizalfos continued. "In the she-human's arms, was thisss bundle. The she-human placed it in a cave, then fled with the he-human. We suspected it was the little one's parentsss, but we were not sure. My clan and I ignored the bundle at first, thinking the humansss would return, but they did not. After the sssun began to wane, I finally took the bundle to my clan so that we would decide what to do with it. Later that day, this witch showed up. She instructed me to follow her, and ssso here I am."

The king frowned. "So the baby was abandoned, then?" he deducted. "Why?"

"The boy isn't… entirely human," said the Guardian of Time.

The Lizalfos pulled down the blanket slightly with its claw. There was a pudgy head with small, blond tuffs of hair - appearing very human to all of them so far. It wasn't until his face was revealed that they were alarmed. He had the features of a human; eyes, nose, mouth - but that wasn't what stood out. It was the black markings around his eyes, looking like a mix between an upside down triangle, and a tear.

"Leaving a baby behind because of some markings?" the king said skeptically. "Markings that could very well be war paint, for all I know. Even Impa has red war paint on her face, and no one is terrified of her." He hesitated. "Well, except in battle of course."

Impa's lips barely twitched in a smile, but she was too immersed in the conversation regarding the baby to acknowledge the king's compliment.

The sorceress twiddled her staff idly. "The more important factor in all of this isn't so much his appearance, or even what he is. It is the fact that he is cursed. And it is because of this that I am here."

"You had another vision, then," said the king. It wasn't really a question or statement.

Impa had heard of these 'visions' before. The Guardian of Time was considered the family seer, in a way, due to her having the ability of seeing glimpses of the future. When she saw something she deemed important enough, she would warn them. The visions she warned them about would often come true if they did not take action to prevent them from doing so. Impa suspected the witch knew far more however, as she was able to see memories of past eras that not even historical books were able to record.

"In the era wherein the Hero of Time had to go seven years forward in time," the Guardian of Time started off, and Impa could detect a certain fondness in her tone. "One of the temples, known at the time as the Fire Temple, held a legendary beast. The illustrations in your books sometimes depict him as a flaming serpent… others thought him to have wings, and show him more as a dragon. This beast was known as Volvagia."

The Lizalfos gave a hiss of pride. "Volvagia, the king of all reptilian beasts. We ssstill honor him today."

The witch continued, unfazed by the interruption. "It was said that the Demon King paid Volvagia a visit, long before the Hero of Time even arrived at the Fire Temple. The evil man requested Volvagia's service to him, but the beast refused, wanting nothing to do with humans and their wars. Furious, the Demon King used his powers to bend Volvagia's will under his command."

Having been educated in the history of past eras, none of this information was particularly new to Impa and the king, but they listened on anyway. Hearing this from the sorceress was quite different than having read them from a book.

"What no one knew however," she said, pointing her staff in the direction of the baby. "Was that the Demon King had placed a curse on the beast; that one day, a child would be born that was both man and dragon. He would have the ability to use Volvagia's powers, and have the same functions of a human. But you know what the real evil from this curse is?"

She suddenly appeared to be drawing magic from her staff, and though Impa felt an increasing discomfort at this, the king made no move to stop her.

"The curse is that at some point in this boy's life, he is destined to be controlled by the Demon King, just as Volvagia had been," said the Guardian of Time. "It is my assumption that the Demon King's intention for having him being human at all could be relevant to having a servant that would… camouflage within society. Perhaps he seeks a minion who is able to understand humans, and find exploits to use against them, rather like a spy."

A long silence followed forth, as they tried to digest her words. "So," Impa clarified. "In other words, you suspect this is the cursed child the Demon King spoke of. What makes you certain it's him, and not someone else? What makes you say this is to happen in this era, even?"

"The curse described the child as having these exact black markings as he does," said the Guardian of Time simply. "As for why I say it's in this era, it's because I have seen it. I have seen fire consume these very lands, bodies of men, women, and children die among vast armies of monsters." She turned toward the king. "I have seen the silhouette of a princess, barely of age to rule - fight to protect your land, and… well, are you sure you want to hear the rest? It is not my wish for you to lose sleep over this for the rest of your years."

Color drained from the king's face at her words, and Impa observed as the magic that seeped from her staff take the form of an orb, which was now floating above the witch's palm. "This is my recollection of the vision," said the Guardian of Time, directing the orb toward Impa. "Take it. I know the king is in grieving, so if he cannot bear to see what's inside, I know you will."

Impa caught the orb, and glanced at the old man questioningly, but he did not give any indication of wanting to see it. “But how could one being bring so much destruction to this world?" the king muttered. "I do not doubt he could grow to be powerful, but surely, it cannot outmatch that of the Demon King's? It's not as if he obtains the… relic."

The witch’s eyes darkened. "I believe something to consider too is the fact that the Demon King _will_ rise again, and another war will undoubtably follow, though I've had no vision yet as to when or how. This boy however, will surely be involved with his return."

"What would you have us do with the abomination, Your Highness? I could… dispose of him now, if that is your wish."

Impa nearly jumped at the voice; cold and inhumane, the poe finally speaking up for the first time. She had almost forgotten the ghost was there, hovering next to the chair, for it did not sit. Its words left a dark atmosphere lingering in the air, and the king sat up, appearing uncomfortable and lost in thought. Even the Lizalfos looked uneasy.

"My visions are not always so concrete," said the Guardian of Time. "I see them based on logical decisions and actions. But when logical becomes emotional, my visions become more obscure, and unpredictable. This was why we were not able to save everyone based off my visions, particularly the one closest to you." She watched as the king looked away, and continued. "But we were able to save hundreds of men that contributed to being the deciding factor on you winning the previous war. Curses on the other hand, are not easily reversible, and this is why I'm determined about the results from this one. The curse on this boy _will_ happen. I would suggest being careful with your decisions, Your Majesty."

The king paced about the room, regal robes swerving behind him. "Many foes were slain by us throughout the wars," he said wearily. "Our hands are not clean, so I will not pretend to be righteous, when we have taken many lives, as our enemies have. However, he is but a baby. We do not need to start killing children."

What sounded like an unsatisfactory drawl came from the poe, and Impa found herself disliking the creature more and more.

"You said the boy's mind will be taken over by the Demon King at some point in his life," the king repeated. "But you are not certain of _when_ , correct?"

The Guardian of Time nodded. "If I had to venture a guess, I'd say the Demon King would want him old enough to be able to take care of himself. I doubt he plans on possessing him as a child, but you never know."

A whimper could be heard from the bundle, the baby burying its head against the Lizalfo's chest, as if he had understood what they said, and was afraid. The king sighed. "It is cruel to be condemned to such a fate, especially if they have no choice in the matter. The boy will be spared. I cannot speak for his future, but as of the moment, he is to be taken to the human tribe nearest to your clan," he said, addressing the Lizalfos. "I will provide a note with my signature to avoid any conflicts."

"The boy will be raised among humans first," the king said decisively. "If this option doesn't work out, he will then be sent to live among the Lizalfos, and hone his skills from his dragon side. From my understanding however, it will not be a simple process for you to accept him?"

The Lizalfos licked its lips with a forked tongue. "The little one must prove his worth to be accepted among my clan. For thiss, I agree with you it would be a better idea for him to live with the humansss first. He'll have to grow a little, and become stronger, before he is ready for the trialsss we provide for him. Since he is dragon at all, that is the only reason we would even consider giving him the honor of the trialsss in the first place."

"Then it is settled," responded the king, concluding their meeting.

* * *

When the storm had calmed, and the visitors had left, Impa and the king were alone once more, the two walking together in silence. Impa already knew what he was thinking before he even said it, but she let him ask anyway. "Did I… did I make the right decision, Impa? Or am I opening our world to more danger?"

The cackling of the flames from the torches as they walked down the corridor was all that could be heard.

"I think that whatever danger is to befall Hyrule appears to be inevitable, regardless of the boy's role in this," said Impa after awhile. "Either way, we must be prepared and vigilant for what is to come."

“And the orb with the witch’s vision?”

“I stored it away for safe-keeping.”

They reached the princess's room, both quietly stepping inside. Impa rested a hand on the rail of the finely carved cradle. A rare smile reached her lips at the sight of the sleeping baby girl. "But you know what I think?" Impa whispered back at the king, who watched his daughter with adoration.

"If our queen had been here, she would have made the same decision as you," Impa stated. "Though you are all rulers hardened by the war, there is a gentleness inside your family that the world often seems to lack. It is both a strength and a weakness, but it is there. You may not know it yet, but your decisions now are also setting an example for Princess Zelda."

The king stroked along the side of the blonde curls gently, careful not to wake her up. He did not have much time left to live in this life. This wasn't only implied from the Guardian of Time’s vision, but he could feel his body slowly deteriorating. And if what the witch said was true - _barely of age to rule and fight to protect your land_ \- then his time may be shorter than he had anticipated. Impa would play a larger role in raising Zelda, but this did not surprise him. 

What would his daughter be like, as a ruler? Would everything be too much responsibility for her to handle? What concerned him above all was that the coming of the Demon King's return, whenever that would be, indicated that it would happen while Zelda was still alive.

And for this, he considered keeping his eyes open for the Spirit of the Hero. After all, he may just be what they will need for what was to come. The hero of legends, that would slay the dragon, and thwart that which was evil. How simple this sounded, when he thought of it that way. But would reality unfold like that of those tales?


	2. Fire

Volga. The very origin of his name was described to him as, "what some scaly Lizalfos called you when it found you as a baby, and handed you to us." And what consisted of "us" equated to Volga being passed down from family to family, then tribe to tribe, like a diseased child that nobody wanted to deal with. If his parents, wherever they may be, had ever given him a name, he would likely never know. And so, he was always Volga.

The concept of family itself and belonging was foreign to him. Being his questionable species of course, largely attributed to his predicament. He had tried, and often failed, to control his abilities, particularly the ones that would affect his physical form. But no matter how hard he tried, there was nothing he could do to remove the seemingly most fearsome feature about him - his face.

Ever since he was born, he was cursed with inexplicable, black markings underneath his eyes. The sight repulsed the humans he lived with, and scared the other children. Many regarded it as evil, or some ill-gotten magic. Whatever was the cause, Volga resented it.

He had taken to wearing masks, or any kind of helmet that would cover the area around his eyes - as much as he could. And this too, was unusual to the humans. But at least, finding him strange was easier to cope with, than them being terrified of him.

"You really saw a dragon claw morph from his arm?"

"Y-yes, it was so scary. When I told father, he moved him outside. Honestly, he should just live in the mountains, like a dragon should."

Volga stirred slightly from where he lay atop a pile of rags inside a small shed. He could hear the nearby voices of the children of the village, one of them being the son of the current humans who were raising him. Pressing the leather flap of his helmet closer to his ear, Volga tried to drone out their conversation.

"Do you think his parents were dragons?"

"Doubt it. I heard rumors that his parents fled at the sight of him."

 _Don't pay attention to these humans_ , Volga told himself firmly. _Don't listen to their words. This is nothing different than usual…_

"Actually," said a third voice. "I heard that they tried to raise him at first, but then he began to grow wings." His tone lowered, as if telling a secret. "And that his wings were cut off shortly after. Do you think his father did this?"

The voices were becoming hushed whispers, but to Volga, they were a loud, ringing sensation in his ears. He wished it would stop, that the children would talk about anything else, and go about their day. Or better yet, be further away from the shed.

"If you ask me, I wouldn't be surprised if he tore right out of his mother's stomach with his claws, and killed her. What is a woman to a dragon anyway, if not something to eat?"

"That's a… horrible thought," one of them gasped. "Now I'm definitely going to have nightmares."

Whatever was said next, Volga did not hear them. All he could see was red. A burning anger and pain welling up inside him. His emotions, like his abilities, had become increasingly unstable throughout his childhood.

"What is the orange g-glow from your shed?"

The children gathered around to peer at the open entryway of the shed, but they did not dare to take a step closer. They could make out the form of a boy, standing up from where he had been lying down. Flames surrounded Volga’s body, the cause of the light within the shed, but they did not appear to burn him.

Though Volga made no advance toward them, the children took several steps backwards, paralyzed with fear. The hollow slits of Volga's helmet where his eyes would have been - were on fire.

"Run!" their voices exclaimed. "Run from the dragon!"

Volga watched as they scurried away, remaining perfectly still from where he stood, but fuming. The rags beneath him had begun to set aflame, and he stomped over them in irritation, trying to prevent himself from burning his only place to sleep.

It was a matter of time before his fire dissipated, and the owner of the house next to the shed had come running toward his direction. With two large buckets of water in each hand, he took no time to hesitate when he spotted the flames on the ground. He threw the water over them, putting out the fire.

"You almost lost me my shed, boy," the villager snapped, both furious and afraid. "This is it. It's one thing after another with you. I've had enough. Go pack your belongings… or what's left of them. We're taking a trip to Hyrule Castle. Let them figure out what to do with you. This is out of my hands."

* * *

Small fingers strummed along the harp, taking delight in the sounds that were produced. "Oh, the Era of Time had such lovely masterpieces," said Princess Zelda fondly. "But I think it'll be awhile before I fully learn how to play all my favorite songs."

Her instructor chuckled, an elderly woman with knowledge of music across the ages. "And what is your favorite song, child?"

"It's difficult to pick a favorite, but I have to say that I love the Bolero of Fire," she said, gently tugging at the chords, initiating the first eight notes. "There is just something so deep in that tune."

The old woman smiled. "Bolero of Fire is a song dedicated to friendship, and the power of the heart… a timeless classic. You know, there is power in these songs. A magic that may be too advanced for you now, but in time, you will learn how to use it." She glanced at the pocket watch on the table. "Well, it looks your music lesson lasted longer than usual today, but it's always a pleasure to teach you, Princess."

With their music lesson concluded for the day, Zelda thanked her, and set off to search for her father, eager to tell him about the tunes she had been practicing. When she didn't find him in his study, she continued looking, spotting one of her guards as she did so. "Excuse me," she addressed him. "But have you seen my father?"

The guard gave her a salute. "He is in the throne room, Your Highness." A nervous expression crossed his features. "However, there are two visitors with him. I… would not go in there if I were you. There is a strange child there, said to wield abilities of a fearsome beast."

Zelda's eyes widened, and the guard quickly added. "But do not worry, Impa and our men are keeping a close watch on them. I should return to my duties as well." He gave Zelda a bow, and continued forth from his path.

Her first instinct was to go to her room, perhaps to put away her harp and find her father later. But somehow, she could not bring herself to head in that direction. She had heard of this child before, but in the rare occasion that he would be brought up, Impa and her father always shared a mysterious look on their faces, and they'd say nothing more.

She could feel her footsteps begin to guide her, curiosity overcoming what should have been fear. What was so horrifying about this boy?

As she neared the throne room, she could hear a man speaking to her father, in what sounded like an almost pleading tone. Zelda hid behind the wall, observing in silence.

"I just… I just want him away from my home, Your Majesty," the villager all but dropped to his knees. "My family can never sleep properly anymore with him there, even when I had him sleep outside. None of the other people in the village want to take him in, either. He brings great unease to everyone."

The King of Hyrule frowned, the crease prominent on his aged forehead. "But why?" he asked, perplexed. "He hasn't hurt anyone, has he?"

“Well no,” said the villager, shuddering at the thought. "He probably could though. His unusual abilities, and the fire! I… does it really need to be explained as to why we don't want him around? Just look at him."

Zelda, despite herself, peeked one eye from behind the wall to survey this individual, that was spoken of with so much disdain. A boy stood there behind the villager, tall, but curiously thin underneath his oversized clothes. His faded blue shirt appeared vaguely burnt, forming a jagged pattern at where his sleeves should have been. She could not see much of anything on his face, for he kept it covered.

"He's so… strange," said the villager with a grimace. "Don't you see why I'm bringing him here? He has been passed from one to another enough times to where there are no tribes left in the area that _want_ him."

There was something vulnerable about the boy's posture, as he scrunched his shoulders and bowed his helmed head in what might have been humiliation. And there was more. Something about him was subdued, like a dying flame in the darkness of its solitude.

"By all means, no one is forcing any of you to take him," said the king, shaking his head. "Go, then, back to your family, with the comfort that the boy is no longer a problem to any of you." He dismissed the villager, who was all the more relieved to leave, and did not take a second glance back at the child.

Zelda was so shocked by this cold exchange, that she found herself clenching her fingers tightly around her harp, gaping at the villager's back.

When he was gone, her father turned to the boy. "Tell me, how old are you?"

"Twelve, sir," he replied shakily, and it seemed he was finding it difficult to raise his head to look at him, even if it was the proper way to address a king. Formal court behavior was not something he must have been taught, but her father was accepting of this enough to let it slide for now.

Impa exchanged a knowing look with the king that Zelda did not understand. "And what would you say to the idea of living with the Lizalfos for awhile, rather than the humans?" he suggested.

"W... what?"

"Doing so may allow you to feel more at ease with your abilities… the other part of what you are," the king continued. "But if you would rather live with the humans again, we would have to find a different area of tribes to take you. It is possible of course, it would just take some time to arrange."

The boy shifted from foot to foot. "I don't know," he said, his voice faltering with a sadness that made him less inclined on making a sudden life-changing decision for himself. "I didn't mean to cause any trouble. Maybe the Lizalfos wouldn't be a bad idea. But would they want…?”

"According to the Lizalfos that had found you when you were a baby," the king explained. "You would have to go through a trial, or a set of trials, for them to recognize you as their kin. I believe you may be too young, but if you think this is what you want to do, we can help you get started. Impa can train you for awhile, so that you become more confident in your fighting ability."

Unsure of how to respond to that, he suddenly took off in a sprint. Impa was about to move, but the king raised a hand in the air. Zelda however, retreated from the wall before anyone would see her, leaving the area quietly.

"It's alright, Impa," he said calmly. "He needs some time alone. Let him be."

Impa sighed, heeding his words. "While his circumstances are unfortunate,” she said, gazing at where the boy had disappeared. "Do you really think it's a good idea for me to train him? To make him stronger? If he is indeed, a threat to us one day, wouldn't it be risky to let him in on our fighting techniques? And where will he stay during his training?"

"He is not a threat now, but we will still take precautions," said the king warily. "He will not remain with us for long. In the meantime, his sleeping quarter will be in the guard barracks, the room to the east though - best if he has the room to himself, rather than sharing it with them. Give him a day or two to reset himself, and find his priority. Then you will begin the training."

* * *

Volga understood enough to know that he was to stay in Hyrule Castle for awhile to begin his training, and out of survival and instinct, he knew he should comply, at least for the sake of having a roof over his head and something to eat. Emotionally however, he wanted to be away from everyone, away from the cautious or scared expressions that would judge him.

He found himself in what appeared to be a grove, but was in fact, a grand garden. Volga wondered if he had somehow managed to leave the castle, but then he realized that he did not really care right now. Something about this place was…

So many flowers. He had never seen so many of them at once, of such variations and colors. They were beautiful; lively and taken care of, as were the plants and shrubberies. A soothing fountain could be heard nearby, and Volga caught sight of two birds bathing inside it, chirping happily with one another. So peaceful this place was… it almost seemed unreal.

Even as he appreciated the beauty of the garden, he could not stop the swelling in his throat, and the blurring of his vision. He sunk into a sitting position, back pressed against the corner of where two shrubberies met. Wrapping his arms around his knees, he pulled them to his chest, burying his head into his arms. Tears burned within his eyes, past his helmet, and on his cheeks.

He felt like some kind of abomination. If he couldn't fit in with the humans, how would trying to live among the reptilians be any better? Who was to say he would succeed in whatever trial he had to prove to them? Why would he even _care_ to try to impress them?

"Why do you cry?"

The voice startled him, and his heart raced frantically, as he raised his head from his arms to look at the source of said person. There, stood a girl who did not appear much younger than him, holding a harp in her hands. She was outfitted in a simple green dress, and yet of material that spoke of far much worth than that of an average piece of clothing. Her bangs were both braided, while the rest of her hair hung loosely around her shoulders, appearing golden from where the sunlight caught onto it. Deep, blue eyes stared at him curiously.

Volga stared back at her for a moment, before shifting around nervously from where he sat. "I'm not… crying," he sniffed, trying to get a hold of himself, forcing his voice to deepen as much as he could. "And even if I was, so what?"

"When I cry," she said, taking a seat next to him on the grass, and placing her harp beside her. "Father or Impa try to make me feel better. Everyone should have someone like that, don't you think? If you cry, who will make you feel better?" and when Volga made no reply, she spoke again. "I can try to make you feel better, if you would like."

He blinked at her, even though he felt like he should be annoyed with her nosiness and invasion of his space. "Who are you?" he asked, confused.

"I'm Princess Zelda. But you can just call me Zelda. And you?"

A… princess? It made sense to Volga now as to why she was dressed the way she was, but what didn't make sense to him was why a princess would be here, right now, talking to someone like him, and not inside the castle, attending to business affairs.

"I'm Volga," he said frowning. "But I don't understand why you're here."

She tucked a lock of blonde hair behind a pointed ear. "I've been… sneaking around a bit. Impa gets angry with me when I do that, but I can't help myself," she said sheepishly. "Anyway, I heard what happened in the throne room. What that villager was saying and everything. I don't understand what's so scary about you."

Volga gave a choked laugh. "You're joking, right? Isn't a boy wearing a helmet not scary enough to you?"

"Should it be? Why do you wear a helmet?"

Volga instantly grew defensive. "Why else do people wear helmets?" he retorted.

She shrugged. "Our soldiers wear them when they're in training, or when they're going to war. But they don't usually wear them for greetings or social gatherings."

There was a pause, as if Zelda was considering something, but was struggling with herself as to whether she should follow through with it. Finally, she decided. "May I see you?" she asked, somewhat timidly.

It was strange how polite she sounded, but Volga knew what she meant. His initial instinct was to tell her to go away and leave him alone. But then he figured that she would likely go away anyway. He had nothing to lose really. It wasn't as if he had to worry about what she thought of him. She was being curious, that was all.

And yet, even when he gave her the nod of approval, he felt his heart sink as she lifted his helmet. He was afraid, and he did not know why. He never felt like this around the other children, always expecting them to react the way they did. He found himself closing his eyes tightly.

Silence. Volga wondered why she hadn't screamed and ran away by now.

"Why," said Zelda softly, her finger brushing at one of the black markings under his left eye, catching a stray tear there. "Why would people be so afraid of this? Afraid of you?"

He opened his eyes at her words, shocked green ones meeting a searching blue. "Your eyes are so expressive, too." She placed the helmet on the ground next to her harp. "I like how you are."

Volga thought at first, that he was hearing things. That he had somehow imagined the words, that he had imagined this very place. That he had imagined Zelda. Perhaps he was dreaming. But no, he couldn't be, because when her hand reached out for his, the touch felt very real.

"Come on," she said, giving him a warm smile. "Let's go get a bite to eat. We don't even have to go back to the castle, if you don't want. I know of some places in the marketplace we could visit. You must be starving."

* * *

__

_"It is something that grows over time... a true friendship. A feeling in the heart that becomes even stronger over time... The passion of friendship will soon blossom into a righteous power and through it, you know which way to go... This song is dedicated to the power of the heart... Listen to the Bolero of Fire..."_

_\- Sheik (Ocarina of Time)  
_


	3. Company

Volga did not understand why Zelda was so secretive about getting out of Hyrule Castle, but it was not difficult to tell she had done this before. She had more escape routes memorized than a vast maze had paths. Moreover was the point that she had thrown an olive cloak over her dress, and pulled up the hood to cover her head. Did she not want to be seen or noticed among her people? He could definitely relate if that was so, but he did not understand why. What did she have to hide, when she was…

The word did not immediately come to his mind, but the unfamiliar connotation was similar to what he had experienced when he first stumbled upon her garden. As he tried to connect his thoughts, he was interrupted by the sounds of her guards marching, doing a watch on the castle grounds. Zelda made a motion with her hand to hide behind the nearby royal stable. 

“Zelda,” said Volga, slightly amused at how quickly she moved. “Why are you trying to sneak away from them? Couldn’t you just go through the doors normally, since you’re well… a princess?”

She shook her head. “It’s not as easy as you think,” she whispered peering through a small opening on a haystack. “Father throws a fit whenever he finds out I’m not in the castle, and in his overprotectiveness, he has Impa watching me like a hawk. And being able to escape Impa’s eyesight is no easy feat, either. Come, the guards have their backs to us now. We’re almost out.”

When they left the barn and castle grounds, they found themselves in a town bustling with activity. Volga had never seen so many humans in one place. Vendors were stationed in nearly every direction he looked, some with stalls, selling smaller and cheaper items - while others sold more expensive goods inside an actual shop. Customers would stop by, or quickly walk away if they weren’t interested in buying anything, since the stall vendors were particularly pushy when they refused.

Bakeries, restaurants, and a shop with sweets highlighted the center of the town. The shop with sweets was especially crowded, many children clutching hands with adults- presumably their parents, while they begged them to buy them candy. 

He felt disconcerted in such a crowded place, knowing he would be talked about from countless eyes upon him. Regretting that he had left his helmet back at the castle, Volga cast his gaze downwards as he walked behind Zelda, watching the cobbled street beneath him, and the back of Zelda’s heels disappearing and reappearing into the hem of her cloak and dress. He watched their intertwined hands, and wondered why he hadn’t let go yet. Why she had reached out to him to start with.

Zelda lowered her hood and unlike him, she mingled with the crowd - only with seemingly more energy than that of an ordinary citizen here. Volga had never seen anyone so delighted to be in a market place. Everything appeared to fascinate her; from the broken down book store across the street, to the parrot squabbling from the pet shop, to the magician attempting to make a compass disappear within his hat. Volga occasionally raised his head to observe in silent awe, before an on-looker would notice him, and he would turn his attention away.

Her footsteps paused in front of one of the stalls, and there were so many humans in the line, in front of them and behind, that Volga did not even bother to look up to see what she was going to buy. All he could hear was the loud chatter of the humans around him, and the scent of oven-baked pastries that tantalized his taste buds.

“Try this,” she said eagerly, handing him one of the pastries that she had purchased. “I know we’re about to eat anyway, and I’d get scolded for days for eating this before lunch, but you have to try a bite, at least.”

Volga glanced at the caramel colored pastry inside a napkin, his eyes growing wide. “I promise it’s good,” she said, taking a bite from her own pastry. She held out the other pastry for him.

“Are… are you sure?” he said uncertainly. _I never had anyone give me anything like this before_ …

Zelda nodded, and he hesitantly took the pastry. Bringing the treat to his lips, he took a bite from the edge. Flakes of sweetened, baked dough filled his mouth, and traces of something even sweeter, rich and smooth. He took another bite, trying to taste more of that mysterious sweetness that seemed to melt in his mouth.

“What is this stuff that’s inside?” he asked, licking his lips. “It’s good.”

She grinned. “That’s the best part, it’s the fudge. If only they served these in the castle. Father says it’s commoner food, but that never really stopped me from slipping away into town, even if just to buy them.”

* * *

They walked onwards from the central square, the two children savoring the rest of their pastry and chatting with one another. The noises of the crowds lessened, as they reached an empty alleyway. 

“I still find it odd that you have to sneak away from the castle just to come here,” said Volga, puzzled. “I thought a princess could go wherever she wanted.”

Zelda did not immediately respond to this, the mysterious girl heading toward what looked like a secluded side yard of an abandoned building. There, stood a stack of crates propped up against a gated wall that stretched as far as his eyes could see. He realized that this must have been the end of the town, the wall that separated it from the rest of Hyrule.

She removed her cloak and climbed upon the crates, until she was at the very top. There was a branch hanging from a tree next to the crate she was on, and she grabbed it, looking as if she was considering climbing the tree too so that she could gain more height. “Let me show you something, Volga.”

Curious, but aware of the height she had climbed and the sturdiness of the branch she was holding on to, he started up the crates. He watched as Zelda stood on her tiptoes against the gated wall, presumably to get a better view of what she wanted to show him. Once he reached the top, he stepped on the crate next to hers, and took a glance at the sight before him.

Though the gate bars blocked most of the view, Volga could see the verdant fields of Hyrule, the very ones he had crossed when he had arrived with that villager. Beyond the horizon however, the other landscapes were blurred from this viewpoint. He could make out the faintest formation of a mountain in the distance, and the outline of trees in the forest, but everything else was shrouded in mystery.

“See that drawbridge over there?” Zelda asked, her eyes barely reaching the bars of the gates above the wall. Volga nodded as he caught sight of what she was referring to. “That’s the line I can never cross. I’m rarely given permission to visit the town, but to cross that draw bridge, I am forbidden to. Well, as long as I’m a child, anyway.”

“But why?”

Zelda sighed. “According to Father, it’s because of the wars. He seems to think that whenever I leave the castle, I’m in danger. He keeps talking about an upcoming war, but he doesn’t even know when it’s going to happen. It’s a bit stifling, living in paranoia like that. Leaving the castle now and then gives me a breath of fresh air, and it relaxes me.”

She let go of the branch and outstretched her arms, as if she were about to take flight. “Whenever I see birds soaring in the sky, I can’t help but admire their freedom. Sometimes I wish I could just fly over this wall to see what it looks like beyond this town. To see all of Hyrule before me, and not just from the highest balcony of the castle. The view is like a painting, something that I cannot reach, but that I long to be a part of.”

 _What an unusual human_ , he wondered, observing the care-free girl before him. It was not as if he had much to compare to, being that this was the longest anyone had gone in his company. But even when he would watch the other children from the shadows, yearning to be part of their group, to have someone to talk to… he had never seen quite anyone like her.

When she reached out for the branch again to make another attempt to climb, Volga rested his hand on hers, not wishing for her to get hurt just so that she could get a better view. “Here,” he said softly, kneeling before her. “Climb my back. I’ll lift you up so that you can see more of what’s out there. You’ll be safer that way too.”

Surprise filled her eyes, as a subtle tinge of pink rose to her cheeks. She carefully mounted his back, and wrapped her arms around his neck. Volga slowly rose to his feet until he was standing up, adjusting to her light weight, feeling a need to please her, to somehow respond to the kindness the princess had shown him when no one else ever had.

“Volga, look at that,” Zelda gasped, pointing toward the hazy landmarks in the distance. “I wonder what’s beyond that mist over there. And I swear I can almost see the the river leading to Lake Hylia too! It must be exactly like it’s described in the books, but what if it isn’t?”

 _Perhaps_ , Volga thought, feeling a familiar, prodding sensation on his back that had nothing to do with her weight. _Perhaps when I use these again, I can show you everything you wish to see_ …

It was a passing thought, an imagery of something that could be, but he could not yet fully comprehend.

* * *

The scent of grilled, seasoned meat wafted in the air, as Zelda pushed opened the door to one of her favorite places to have lunch at. 

The restaurant was nothing like her castle’s dining room, but it was decorated to an antique environment that would suit the upper class as much as the lower class. She liked it this way though, as it gave her a chance to observe people of various backgrounds and cultures that she wouldn’t normally get the chance to see within her castle. Her attention today however, wasn’t so much on the others, as much as on the boy that was with her.

“Ah welcome back, Princess,” greeted the server, a menu under his arm “Oh, it’s going to be two today?” he prompted, surveying Volga suspiciously. “Friend of yours?”

Zelda nodded, and the server led them to an open table. She was relieved it wasn’t very crowded, since such crowds appeared to make Volga uncomfortable. And after all the looks she had seen people give him today, she was starting to understand why.

“I’ll be right back to take your orders,” said the server, but before he headed away, he turned to Zelda. “You know I love it when you bring business to our restaurant. But coming to town, unsupervised, can be dangerous. If your father or care taker ever stepped in here asking about you, then you know I would have to tell them that you’ve been here.”

The princess waved a hand in the air. “I know, I know. Don’t worry. I’ll be heading back to the castle before dark.” Though he looked unconvinced, the server disappeared to go take another order. 

Zelda handed one of the menus to Volga as he took a seat next to her. As she began to survey her own, Volga merely blinked back at the one in front of him.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, noticing the blank look on his face. “Did you not see something you like?”

Volga did not take his eyes off the menu. “I… um,” he began. “I… don’t know how to read.”

There was a brief silence at this, and Zelda could hear a certain buzzing in her head. “You don’t know how to read?” she repeated. “But… why not? Were there no schools among the people you lived with?”

“There were schools, yes,” said Volga. “But I was never accepted in any of them. The professors and the students were terrified of me.”

Zelda clenched her fists, clearly outraged. “That’s preposterous!” she exclaimed. “Public education is free, and is supposed to admit any student! There’s… there’s no law stating otherwise, unless the student has gotten into some kind of serious criminal activity. But still! That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard of!”

He listened quietly as she raged for a few more minutes, and she only calmed down when the server returned to take their orders. Zelda pointed to what she wanted on the menu, not bothering to speak the order. Volga decided to save them both the trouble by ordering the same meal as she did.

“I’m sorry, Volga,” she said, taking a deep breath, and exhaling. “I’m not being very lady-like, I know. But I was - _still_ am, furious.”

She could see it in his eyes. The confusion, and the fact that someone had been angry _for_ him. What kind of life had this boy known? Her mind was in turmoil, bombarding with questions, torn between wanting to know more, and fearing what she would find. 

“That’s alright,” he reassured her. “You know, just being in your company, to have someone to talk to… has been the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. I may not understand everything, or why you’re upset, or why you nodded when that man asked if I was your friend….” He trailed off hopefully. “But I would like to, if you’re willing to show me.”

How was it that this lonely boy was regarded with so much horror? She had not forgotten that he was supposed to wield the abilities of some beast… a beast that no one wanted to tell her about. A beast that had carried her on his back, so that she would not hurt herself from climbing on the branch.

When the server returned, two steaming plates of melted cheese over potatoes and chunks of beef were laid out before them. Zelda could not explain the satisfaction she felt at seeing Volga’s wide eyes gaping at his own plate. _He probably never had anything so fulfilling before. That will change now_ , she thought, surveying the thin frame that his torn, baggy clothing failed to hide. 

She started working on her plate, and noticed his difficulty with the eating utensils. After having observed her actions of cutting the beef, he attempted to try to cut a piece, grunting from the awkward angle in which the knife would not slice through the meat. When it finally did though, the small piece flew up in the air upon release.

Zelda laughed, and scooted closer to him so that he would have a side-by-side view of her hands and eating utensils. “Here, try it like this,” she said, demonstrating to him the proper way to cut beef.

It took several more attempts before Volga got the hang of it, and sliding the beef across his plate was an improvement from sending it flying. “Like this?” he asked, after successfully cutting a piece.

“Mhm, just like that.”

And even as he offered to cut her beef in his excitement at what he learned, Zelda could not help the determined smile that escaped her lips. Sure, it was not the kind of company that was expected for her to have. But she was fine with that.


	4. Words

"Father."

"Oh oh," the king mumbled. Zelda was giving him _that look_. He knew that look all too well from her mother, when she was angry with him about something, or rather, angry in general about something. It was rare, but when it happened, the Queen of Hyrule was not one to be trifled with.

Zelda put her hands on her hips. "Is there some kind of law forbidding students to attend a public school?"

He raised a thick eyebrow at the unusual question. "Of course not," he said at once. "You know that. Why are you asking? Goddess forbid, you're not trying to convince me into letting you attend one, are you?" he could feel the dread surface inside of him at the thought.

"No."

Relief. Then…

"If what you say is true," said Zelda accusingly. "Why was Volga rejected to study at a school?"

Silence enveloped between them, as the king tried to piece together his daughter's irate interrogation "Ah," he acknowledged after a moment. "So you met Volga already. What do you… think of him?"

"Father, you're changing the subject," Zelda protested.

"I was not aware that he was rejected to study," he said truthfully. "I was aware however, that he frightened most people. Perhaps him being denied to study was more of his choice to give up trying to learn, in an environment where people shun him, no?"

Zelda listened to his words, not having thought of it that way. Maybe Volga really did choose to not attend the school, not wanting to be around those that were constantly afraid of him. The problem then, was that Volga likely did not have anyone to encourage him to study, as parents would have.

"Where is his family?" she asked quietly. "Does he have no relatives?"

The king frowned. "I do not know who his parents are, or if they're even still alive. And if I had known he had relatives, I would have sent him to live with them, rather than with random tribes."

"But now you want to send him to live in the Eldin Caves," Zelda deadpanned. "Amidst Lizalfos and who knows what other kinds of creepy creatures. What is he going to do there, eat rocks? How is he supposed to get an education living in a place like that?"

"Zelda," the king breathed in surprise. "You sound so much like your mother right now, that it's rather alarming. Calm down a little. One thing at a time. You must first understand that Volga is not really human -"

"While I find it hard to believe," Zelda interrupted. "Yes, I do know that. He has black markings on his face. So?"

Growing more irritated with his daughter's bluntness, he waved a strict finger at her. "Listen young lady, I am your father, so you will show me respect."

Zelda held back her tongue. "Yes, Father," she said bitterly.

He continued. "Very well. As I was saying, Volga is not fully human. As for what he is… from what I understand, the creatures such as Lizalfos, look up to him." He hesitated, and Zelda got the distinct impression that he knew something she didn't. "So my thought was that if Volga couldn't get along with the humans, then he could try living with the Lizalfos for some time. If he doesn't like living there, no one's making him do so. I already told him I can arrange with other tribes to take him in."

 _How many people has Volga been shuffled between?_ Zelda wondered. _It must have been difficult for him, constantly being rejected by families and tribes. Maybe I could understand it if he wouldn't want to live with humans after all that. But still I…_

"Why do you look so glum, child?"

Zelda looked up at him. "Can't we… enroll him at the school in town while he's here?"

The king shook his head. "He's not going to be staying here long, maybe a few weeks at the most. Enough to get his training with Impa, then face his trial with the Lizalfos. Besides, if he's to move to Eldin Caves soon, it would be inconvenient for him to be so far away from school."

"What about here, then?" Zelda pressed on. "Assign him to one of my private tutors. At least to get him started on some basics. Father, he doesn't even know how to write."

Again, her father refused. "Absolutely not," he said firmly. "Zelda, I know you are young, but you cannot be so naive. You know our instructors are not allowed to tutor children who are not of the Royal Family. Can you think of the issues this would cause? If our people were to find out our instructors started tutoring someone outside the Royal Family, and a questionably partial human at that - there would be chaos. Everyone will start complaining as to why their child isn't tutored here, and it would just be a horrible mess. Can you not see this?"

 _All I can see so far_ , Zelda thought defiantly. _Is that the manner that he has been raised is more of an animal than he is._

* * *

It was difficult to believe that several days had already passed since he arrived at the castle. How very unlike his days spent in the village, where time was cruel and dragged on until he was able to will himself to sleep. To where he could find solace in his dreams, in hopes that they would be more pleasant than reality.

But time was starting to take a different form, in such a way that it was teasing him. Now, time went by too quickly, especially when he spent it with the princess. The dread and bitterness he had harbored for so long still lingered, but it was more relaxed with what he was experiencing now. Only he… could not quite yet place what this new feeling was.

Volga skimmed his hand over the wool blanket on his bed - no, the guard barrack's bed that was for his temporary use. It had been quite awhile since he was last given the chance to sleep on a 'proper' bed, so the renewed accommodation was taking some getting used to. But then, everything was taking some getting used to.

There was a tap at his door. Volga sat up, wondering if it was Impa to remind him that he was supposed to start his training with her tomorrow. What sounded like bricks were falling apart outside.

When he opened the door, the person wasn't… quite within view. A massive stack of books appeared to be floating in front of him, some of them sliding to the ground. That is, until he noticed tiny fingers grasp at them from the bottom, and a flash of blonde hair. He felt a rush of surprise and eagerness settle in his chest.

"Let me help you with that," he said anxiously, wondering if she had to finish some late night school work. It wasn't just books she had brought. Several pieces of parchment, quills, and an ink pad were the last of them. She was panting slightly, relieved to get the weight off her arms.

Zelda set the parchments and quills on his desk table, before taking a seat. "Come," she said urgently. "We need to get started before it gets too late. You need to get some sleep before your training tomorrow."

Confused, Volga placed the books on the table, and took a seat next to her. "Get started?"

"I'm going to tutor you, of course," said Zelda simply. "My goal will be for you to learn how to read and write."

The shock on his face must have been obvious, because the princess chuckled.

"Oh come now, it's not so bad," she said, spreading the piece of parchment neatly in front of them. "You may think it's ludicrous for someone of my age to be teaching, but remember that you've had no education yet. This means that we'll be starting with the basics, something I'm very well acquainted with. Here, take the other quill and follow my lead. We will begin with the Hylian alphabet."

* * *

The candlelight that illuminated the desk was beginning to dim, the wax lazily dripping into the small tray that held the partially melted candle, indicating the hours that had already passed. Volga sifted through the various parchments of his writing, or rather, the scribbles of his many mistakes.

"I didn't think writing was so frustrating," he mumbled.

Zelda dipped her quill into the ink pad, then reviewed his parchment, drawing a circle around an occasional letter, and making corrections. "There's only a couple of letters that you're struggling with. I set them aside here for you to practice. You're getting a general grasp of it though… you might even be able to write down a word or two now."

"Write an actual word?' Volga asked, unconvinced. "I don't know. I'd probably make a fool out of myself."

"Volga," said Zelda encouragingly. "Listen. It's alright to make mistakes. Learning to write is not something everyone can learn in a day, so don't feel bad if you're having trouble." She paused, and gazed at the flickering flames from the candle. "Did you know that I'm completely lousy at playing the harp?"

He shook his head. Of all things Zelda may not have felt confident with, he did not expect this to be one of them.

"The first time I tried to play," the princess began, looking abashed. "The sounds were clumsy and shrill… nothing like I had envisioned it to be when I heard some of the greatest musicians in Hyrule. The worst part was that I tried playing during an important ceremony a few years back, where this royal family visited us from a distant kingdom."

"Other kingdoms," he said curiously. "So they were like kings and princesses, but not from your family?"

Zelda nodded. "Yes, except… this family did not have a daughter at the time, only a son. In my excitement to meet a prince, I tried to show off by playing the harp - and well, I failed miserably. He, and his own family looked pretty offended, even though my father, in his bias, found my display charming. I've been a bit embarrassed to play in front of most people ever since."

Volga tried to visualize this scene in his head, but even as he tried to think of the most ear-piercing sounds, he could not see it like this prince supposedly did. If Volga was the prince, he would have been honored if the princess wanted to play music for him. And if she was truly inexperienced where he was not, he would have offered to teach her. Because he would have been thrilled to spend time with her.

_What is this feeling?_

Maybe he could convince her to play her harp around him sometime. Whatever flaws she had, or what she perceived them to be flaws, simply made her more human. And though he wasn’t exactly human himself, Zelda made him feel more human in the short time that he had known her, compared to all his years living among them.

 _Until she finds out what your form can become. You know you will be due for the changes soon and that you have yet to control them. What will she think then?_ his mind reminded him snidely. _For what princess would want to be in the company of a dragon?_

Volga bit his lip, and looked up at her. The braids on her bangs were slightly disheveled from having been up for so long. The fire from the candle barely lit up the room now, nearly at its end. He could see the the shapes in the background cast shadows along her features, the subtle lines underneath her tired eyes. She had stayed up so late tonight with him, patiently teaching him how to write. The very least he could do was make one final effort, so that she could get some sleep soon.

"I… guess I'll try writing a word," he said in defeat.

Zelda gave him a sleepy smile. She brought her quill to his parchment to where she found room for him to practice writing a few words. "What is the first word you would like to learn?"

He could feel his face grow warm, though he figured that was likely his body's naturally high internal heat. "Zelda," he said, admiration dancing in his eyes. "I would like to learn how to write your name."

Volga studied the elegant curves of the letters in her name as she wrote it before him. He tried to imitate it, though his handwriting was nowhere near as refined.

"You did it!" she beamed at him. "Try writing your name too, like this."

Something about Zelda's name was mesmerizing to him, the very letters bringing the word to life. And even when he glanced at his own name, next to hers, he could not really explain why he liked the sight of their names together, or why he felt such a childish delight when he noticed that their names had the same number of letters.

"Will we… practice more tomorrow?" he asked hopefully.

Zelda sat up from the chair and stretched her arms. "We will practice as much as we can. But we'll probably start on some books soon. I'll read them to you, and you can read them back as we go. Reading is one of the best ways to learn how to write. For now, you should get some sleep. You have a big day tomorrow when you start your training."

The light from the candle extinguished, leaving the room in semi-darkness. "Sweet dreams, Volga," she whispered, before quietly leaving the room.


	5. Expose

The morning fog that loomed over Hyrule Field was thicker than usual, and unevenly dispersed. Floating lights could occasionally be seen from within the fog, but few knew what the source of it was. Consequently, this was where the mist was the heaviest, for the lights within appeared to move _with_ the fog. Slowly, it began to spread out across the field, through castle town, and to the castle exterior itself.

Green eyes squinted through the fog, as Volga made his way into the castle grounds, having passed by a familiar statue for the second time now. The first time he had encountered this statue, he had ended up in a long, winding path that somehow brought him back to the same place he had been before. Now that he had taken a different route from the same statue, he finally reached his destination.

"You're late."

Volga swallowed dryly as he approached the training field he had been assigned to. There, stood Impa in her trademark stance: her arms crossed, and a stern expression on her face. "I'm sorry Impa!" he exclaimed, looking a bit ruffled as he rushed over to her. "I didn't get much sleep and it took me awhile to find this place. It was hard to see, and the castle is so big -"

"No excuses," Impa cut him off. "Your tardiness will result in three extra laps around the field on your next training session. And it is _General_ Impa," she scowled. "Also, I'm afraid that due to some… circumstances that have been brought up, today's training will not be as long as was originally planned."

"Sorry Imp - I mean, General Impa."

"Now then," said Impa, as if she hadn't heard him. "In your absent-mindedness, you have likely failed to notice the weapons on the grass."

Volga glanced in the direction she was looking at. Spread out on the grass was a bow, lance, war hammer, and a shield with a sword lying on top of it. He recognized a few of these weapons from having seen the armed soldiers, but he had never actually witnessed any of them being used in combat.

"Well don't just stand there, gaping at them," said Impa irritably. "Pick one."

He blinked. "Any of them?"

"It doesn't matter," Impa replied. "You will be trying each one of them eventually as I test your skill. In time, you will choose the one you want to put the most effort into learning. It cannot be just any weapon either. It has to be one that fits for you. Because in the end, that will be the weapon that will be the difference between life and death."

Volga stared at each of the weapons before him. He figured he should start with something he was familiar with, or rather, something he had seen before, even if he never had a chance to try it. He picked up a rounded shield made of steel, and a matching sword to go with it. The sword was not particularly sharp, but he supposed it didn't matter, since he was not trying to injure anyone.

"Sword and shield, eh?" said Impa. "I see. A solid choice, but a generic one. You want to start with something defensive, and poke in a few stabs here and there. You think the concept will be fairly easy, don't you?"

He tensed under her strict, red gaze. “No I…"

Without warning, Impa picked up the war hammer from the ground and did a forward swing right at him. Surprised, Volga lifted his shield to block it - only to find that the shield was in his left hand, something he was not accustomed to using as much compared to his right hand. That, and the shield was more cumbersome than he had expected. 

Impa's swing did not connect, for she withdrew. "Pitiful," she tutted. "Had this been a real fight, your head would have been bashed in, and bloodied by now. What, does one of the weapons feel stiff to you? Are you not as confident using one of your hands, as the other one? Well let me in on something to you. The sword and shield are two weapons, after all. They take far more skill than you can imagine, to master well."

Volga frowned, trying to adjust his grip on his shield arm, and the weight of his sword on his other arm. He considered switching places, but he knew that either way, he would have to deal with the fact that he would still be less dexterous with one weapon.

"I'll try again," he said, being more careful about when Impa would attack, now that he had seen her do it without foresight. But Impa did not surprise him with that again, likely knowing he was expecting it.

"One more spar, and we move on to the next weapon," said Impa, waving a hand in the air dismissively. She picked up the same war hammer. Volga braced himself, ready for her attack. He remembered the position the war hammer was in when she did the forward swing, and prepared to prop his shield accordingly.

But Impa did not use the same attack. Instead, she swung at him from above, in a wild upswing that looked incredibly difficult to lift. It blew Volga's mind away as to how someone of such a thin frame could be able to lift something so heavy.

Volga raised his shield above him this time, meeting her upswing. The strength of the weapon however, staggered him backwards, causing him to release his grip on the shield. Something in his wrist snapped from the impact, and he closed his mouth tightly from yelping out in pain.

"Your reaction time was quicker," Impa stated, and just when Volga thought she was going to praise him for a change, she added. "But you achieve nothing by trying to just block every attack. In battle, you use a shield to keep yourself safe briefly while you look for openings. You don't use it as a means of turtling yourself the whole time. How can you expect to win with only defense, and no offense?"

Did she really expect him to be able to use any weapon with ease, especially for his first time?

"Next weapon," she ordered.

Annoyed that she was so quick to dismiss his attempt to use the sword and shield, he grudgingly obliged, avoiding her eye as he did so. He picked up the war hammer she had used on him.

Impa laughed. "Are you serious, kid? That war hammer is probably three times as heavy as you. You don't even have muscles yet, how do you expect to be able to lift that?"

Ignoring his injured wrist, Volga gripped both hands around the pommel, slowly raising it. To add insult to injury, Impa chose the sword and shield against him. Unlike him, she didn't rely on her shield right away to block an attack. She made a horizontal slash motion with her sword, and Volga instinctively held his war hammer in a vertical position to block it.

"There you go again with the blocking," said Impa rolling her eyes. "At this rate, we'll be having dents on all our weapons from you always trying to block something I do."

Volga made an attempt to swing the war hammer, but he did not gain enough momentum for it to move much, causing the weight of it to drag him to the ground instead. Frustration fired up inside him, his ears shutting out the sounds of Impa's complaints. The sensation scared him, but he could not hold it back.

"RAAAURGH!"

Without further ado, an inhumane growl rumbled in his throat, as he suddenly stood up from the grass, swinging the war hammer in her direction, this time gaining the strength and momentum he needed for the blow to hit. Impa blocked it in time, but she was taken back. "How…" she glanced over at him.

And there, on his hand that been injured - was not a hand, but a claw.

 _Oh no, not this again_ , Volga thought, his face visibly paling. _Last time this happened, it took days before I could get my arm back into a human arm…_

"So this is your power?" Impa said mildly. "To turn your hand and arm limbs into a claw? Hmmph. Not bad, but you cheated, in a way. You didn't say you were planning to use your own powers, dragon boy. We will continue this once you've turned that… claw back to normal."

Volga could not find anything to say. He was horrified at the sight of the claw, and wanted nothing more than for it to disappear. There had been far too many unpleasant experiences with situations such as these for him not to.

"General Impa," said one of the Hylian guards suddenly, heading over in their direction. Volga quickly turned his body to make sure his back was to the guard, trying to hide as much of the claw as he could. Fortunately for him, the guard was too preoccupied to even notice. "The… ring that we are expecting should arrive here by this evening."

Impa walked away with the guard as the two continued to talk, their voices becoming hushed as they eventually disappeared within the distance. Volga watched them for a moment, wondering what that was about, until a sharp pang came from his wrist.

Even though his claw had given him strength, the sprain on his wrist was still there, in the limbs of his claw now. If he visited the medical wing, how was he going to show this, and not send everyone into panic? No. He had to find a way to hide it, just as he had done with his helmet when he felt the need to.

Whatever was the cause of this unnatural fog, he was grateful for the brief discretion it provided for him, making it less likely for him to be spotted until he could find a solution about his claw. Impa had seen it though. Would she tell everyone? Would she tell the king? Would they… get rid of him, like the last tribe he was with?

Yet just when he thought his fears could not get any worse, a sudden jolt from his body caused him to lurch forward without warning, and he held on against the wall, so that he would not fall. Something on his back ripped open from two separate sections, searing into old wounds, and fresh. Volga did not have to look twice to see the shadows of his wings droop down from either side of him.

_No…_

He staggered along the wall, heading for the nearest place to hide that he could find.

_Hide all you want, but you cannot escape who you are…_

* * *

The courier greeted Zelda at the delivery post near the entrance of the castle, holding a cream colored parcel in his arms. "Princess, your order has arrived."

"Thank you," said Zelda, ready to retrieve the package from the courier. When she was about to reach out however, her guard instantly cut in.

"Pardon me, Your Highness,” said her guard firmly. "But due to your father's request to tighten security, we must investigate the contents within the package."

Really?

"It's harmless," she said in disbelief. "I ordered these a few days ago."

"I apologize for the inconvenience," said her guard, giving her a bow. "I'm merely complying with the king's wishes."

She reluctantly allowed him to inspect the package, and watched as the guard carefully tore the corners of the package with a pocket knife. At least he left the package in good condition to return the contents inside when he was done. But still. Did her father really have to go that far?

He took the sets of the neatly folded clothing, and Zelda could see a hint of amusement on his face, despite his serious expression. "Ah, these are… boy's clothes. I-I didn't know you were into - I mean I didn't erm… see anything here that could be dangerous."

Zelda rolled her eyes. "They're not for me. They're for a friend. Now if you could kindly give me back my package."

"Of course," he replied, handing her the parcel back.

Zelda clutched the package against her chest as she hurried away. Something felt amiss, an unspoken tension in the air. There was a strange sense of foreboding, as was expressed by the numerous frightened looks she had encountered today. 

Making her way to the guard barracks, she reached Volga's quarters, turning her attention away from the apprehensive glances her guards were giving her. They had never seen her appear so frequently around this part of the castle before. She knocked on his door, and waited in bated breath, wondering what he'd think of the clothes.

There was no answer. The door was slightly creaked open however, and Zelda hesitated, before heading inside. "Volga?" she whispered in the silent room. It was empty. She placed the package at the foot of his bed.

Come to think of it, she hadn't seen him since last night. She knew he had his training this morning, but she hadn't heard anything from him throughout the day. Could this be relevant as to why everyone was acting odd? Did something happen?

Zelda headed toward the dining hall, where the castle servants had been cleaning up the tables in preparation for dinner. She ventured toward the kitchen, again receiving curious looks. It wasn't as if she had never been in the castle kitchen before… she'd occasionally sneak in there from time to time if she had been craving a particular sweet - but rarely was a member of the Royal Family actually seen taking a stroll in the kitchen.

"Ah Princess, I wasn't expecting to see you here," said one of the maids from where she had been washing a stack of dirty dishes. She turned off the tap in the sink. "Is there anything I can help you with, Your Highness?”

The blonde gave her an apologetic smile. "Sorry, I did not mean to interrupt any of you. I was just… wondering if any of you knew if Volga had eaten anything yet."

"You mean the helmed boy?" her maid asked, and at Zelda's nod, she frowned. "I haven't seen him eat anything all day, actually. In fact, I don't think I even remember seeing him since early this morning."

Zelda felt an uncomfortable sensation settle in her chest. She found herself heading back to the doorway from the kitchen, when she suddenly froze in her footsteps. There was a wispy layer of fog inside the castle, something that should have been outside, and not floating around the corridor. She could hear her maids hurry along behind her to take a look at what she was staring at.

A faint light was in the distance, reminiscent of the orb-like glow around a fairy. But as it drew closer, Zelda realized that the light was in fact, a lantern. A lantern that… did not seem to have an owner. She held her breath as the lantern came to a stop from its path, not far from where she had been standing. There was something _in_ that fog. She could feel its cold presence watching her, as if it was trying to peer into her very soul.

And for the briefest of seconds, Zelda had seen it. A pair of gleaming, white eyes, and a ragged cloak surround its corporeal form. Then it disappeared, as the lantern from which its disembodied hand held it, continued its way down the corridor.

"W-was that a poe?" asked one of the maids after a moment, her eyes wide with fear.

Before Zelda could answer, she spotted Impa hurrying over in her direction. "Are all of you alright?" she asked them. "You must all stay together, and near a light source. Take a break from your duties, and stay close to the stove. Zelda, you must come with me."

* * *

Zelda could tell that Impa was leading her to her quarters. She followed along behind her hurried pace, questions and concerns filling her mind. "Impa, what's going on?"

Impa tightened her hold around the torch she was carrying. "It's a bit of a long story, but I will try to summarize it to you. Basically, there was an incident in the town's graveyard early this morning. The grave keeper who patrolled the grounds said there was a… purple mist rising from the very ground near one of the tombs. He concluded that it was some kind evil magic, for it was disturbing the spirits in the graveyard. So the fool decided to dig in that area to find out what it was."

They reached a stair case, as Zelda started along the steps. "What… did he find?"

"A ring," Impa responded. "And when he did, a swarm of poes began to surround him. They are interested in this ring. The grave keeper immediately sent us a letter explaining what had happened, and said he'd be arriving today to hand us the ring so that we could decide what to do with it. Naturally, the blasted poes followed him."

Poes. The maid had been right.

"So that's why father was having the guards intercept the mail," said Zelda in understanding. "He was expecting the ring to arrive."

Impa nodded. "Well, your father's been keeping an eye out on the correspondence anyway, but yes, he was especially wary of this. The ring arrived a moment ago. Upon inspecting the ring, we found that there was indeed, magic embedded in this mysterious artifact, but we could not find the source of it.” 

At this, something in Impa’s demeanor told Zelda that there was more to this ring than she wanted to talk about. “Anyway,” Impa grunted. “Poes are drawn to it, which is why they began to linger around today. Not that they'll be here long. The Goron Captain should be arriving here by nightfall. He'll be taking the ring elsewhere, likely to be buried in some remote location."

"Why do you suppose the poes are drawn to it?"

The Sheikah paused when she noticed that Zelda's pace had slowed. "Do you know, Princess, what poes are actually manifested from?"

Zelda shook her head. "Other than that they're spirits of the dead, no… I'm not exactly aware."

"Yes," Impa agreed. "But they are more than just spirits of the dead. When our bodies die, our spirits carry on to another plane. In the case of poes however, their spirits dwell in this world, by their own choice. They could be spirits of fallen warriors, they could be commoners who had died from illness because they did not have the money to treat themselves… there could be many forms, but most have one thing in common. They are often vengeful spirits, seeking to gain power from the misfortune of others. And thus, they are not yet ready to part this world."

Zelda cringed. "How exactly do they gain power?"

"They feed on everything that is associated with something negative and even neutral; hatred, sorrow, betrayal, and more. The more intense, the more of them that latch on to you." Impa motioned for Zelda to pick up her pace again. "It is said that their souls are inside the lanterns that they carry. Death is their favorite nourishment, which is why they're fond of residing in graveyards."

When they reached the curve of the stairs that would lead to Zelda's room, Impa pointed at her door. "I must return to your father," she said warily. "The ring is with him at the moment, even though he is safe, I won't feel at ease until the Goron Captain arrives and all these poes are gone. Stay in your room with your guards nearby, preferably at the hearth. Remember, the poes will be shunned away from light. But more importantly is that you're not alone. They are less likely to cause trouble when there is more than one person. You are weakest when you're alone."

"Impa wait," said Zelda in a small voice. "But… what about Volga? I haven't seen him all day. Is he going to be alright?"

Red eyes flashed mysteriously. "It's probably for the best that you haven't seen him. From his current state, I doubt even the poes would want to approach him."

This however, did not give Zelda any consolation. When Impa turned to leave, Zelda waited for a minute, her mind racing. Something did not feel right about simply abandoning Volga at a time like this, regardless of whatever 'current state' he was in. If he was in a situation where no one would want to approach him, then he was likely alone.

_You are weakest when you're alone…_

If anything Impa had said about the poes was true, Volga was just as likely to be a target for the poes, as the next person who was on their own. And if poes sought to gain power from the misfortune of others, then they would…

But what _would_ they do, then? Impa never really clarified. Was it perhaps, because she thought Zelda would be too young to hear the details? This scared Zelda more than not knowing at all. Unwelcome thoughts invaded her mind at the possibilities, of grotesque, disembodied hands reaching out toward Volga from within their cloaks. Of a dark mist, like the grave keeper had described, envelop him… and the life leave his eyes…

She took a step back from the stairs, but rather than proceeding up to her bedroom door, Zelda turned around in the direction she had come from.

* * *

Zelda would have asked for her guards to accompany her, but she knew it would have been futile, because they would have kept pressing her to stay in her room, just as Impa had instructed. On top of that, they would have ran off to go tell Impa that she was wandering in the castle, which meant it'd be even more difficult to try and find Volga. At the very least, she made sure to carry a light source with her, which ironically enough, was a lantern she had found sitting on top of a window sill. It had sufficient oil to stay lit for quite awhile.

How strange, that sneaking around the castle in the dark was something she was once so comfortably familiar with - and yet now, her corridors were more foreign than she could ever remember them. Every corner that she turned felt like it opened multiple paths, as if she was trying to find her way in some blurred labyrinth.

She caught sight of two orbs of light hovering outside the walls of a room she finally recognized. And it quickly made sense to her as to why the poes would be so interested in that room. For the room was after all, filled with possessions of her mother. But the memories were too much for her father, and he sort of… abandoned the room, so he would not have to face the sorrow within. Zelda occasionally visited the room, even though she remembered very little of her mother.

 _They seem a bit too interested in the room_ , she thought, trying to swallow down the fear in her throat. And it was not only two poes she had spotted, because as she turned around, she could see five more, all floating around the walls, trying to reach through them.

Zelda grabbed the door knob, the lantern trembling in her fingers as she did so. The two poes she had initially seen turned their eyes in her direction, interested that she was about to open the door. "Are you sure you want to see what's inside, little girl?" one of them hissed, its icy voice causing her to flinch. "A dangerous creature is in there, but such a broken soul. It's alright though, we will take it all away. Through these walls, he's slowly surrendering to us. The power he could bring us is unimaginable."

With a silent gasp, Zelda suddenly wrung open the door and slammed it shut behind her. She was breathing heavily, cold sweat beading on her forehead as she tried to put her thoughts into place. There was a rustle in the room. She was not alone.

"Volga?" she asked uncertainly.

Silence. Zelda could hear the jingling of the poe's lanterns from outside the door, but nothing else. It was difficult to see anything within the room, even with the feeble light of her lantern.

There were no windows here, no sunlight or moonlight that would be able to panel through, or any other source of lighting other than that of her own. Portraits were stacked behind one another, filled with dust, and not up on the walls, as they normally were in every part of the castle. There was a couch in the far back of the room, covered in a white plastic.

And there, propped behind the arm of the couch, was a… somewhat misshapen outline, partially hidden from view.

Zelda took a deep breath.

"Please," he pleaded, in a voice filled with suppressed despair. "Please don't look at me. It'll go away sometime. So you don't have to see…"

Aside from her confusion and the circumstances, Zelda felt as if a weight left her chest. "Volga," she said in relief, moving closer to where he had been hiding. "I was worried about you."

Her words appeared to stun him into silence, for in that moment, he had ceased to withdraw further behind the couch, leaving himself - and all that he had been trying to hide… exposed.

She could see his body pressed uncomfortably in the gap between the back of the couch and the wall. His arm was trying to cover a terrifying claw that disfigured his other arm. A pair of lopsided wings were scrunched up on either side of him, a dull amber and gray faded along the scales.

Zelda's eyes widened.

* * *

Volga wanted to apologize, to say something to try and normalize the situation as much as he could, but the words failed him. Fear gripped him in such a way that he felt the chill of the strange presence from outside the walls, the ones that had been pursuing him ever since he had found this room.

"Is this part of what you are?" Zelda breathed. "A dragon?"

All he could do was nod, watching the surprise in her eyes, as was expected from any sane human. "They'll go away," he found his voice somehow. "The claw and the wings. I just don't know how to control them very well, but they'll go back to how I was. Don’t… don't be afraid," he felt as if he was trying to convince himself more than Zelda. "Don't run away. They always do."

The princess set her lantern on the ground. "Who, Volga?" she whispered.

"The humans I've lived with," he said in a hollow voice. "The ones who, like you, have seen some form of my transformation. They would always run away. So I would hide when it happened. If I was lucky to not get caught, then I wouldn't have to worry about when the next tribe would take me. I got used to it after awhile. But you… I don’t know if I -“

He looked away, struggling with trying to explain his thoughts into words. Yes, he had indeed, been used to the reactions of the humans he had grown up with if they saw so much as a single scale. But for the princess, his heart was not prepared for this. His chest ached with every breath, shoulders stiff with tension. 

Volga was not quite sure what happened next, because Zelda kneeled in front of him from where he was half sitting, half sprawled on the ground. His pulse quickened as she drew closer, and he could see the kindness in her eyes that drew him in. And she _was_ drawing him in, into her embrace, warm arms wrapping around him.

"I'm still here,” she reassured him, gently pulling him close, the side of his cheek situating comfortably against her chest as she held him. "You don't have to hide around me. I'm not going to run away."

His mind was in a swirling blur, and he could not really make sense of anything right now. Whatever _this_ was that Zelda was doing to him, he felt mentally and physically in need of this, like a dehydrated man stumbling upon water for the first time, when he had somehow, impossibly managed to live thus far. Volga brought his own arms around her, being careful not to hurt her with his clawed arm, while his human arm clung back to her, fingers tightening around the silky fabric of her dress in silent desperation.

"You never had anything like this before, have you?" she said softly.

Zelda must have understood, and he closed his eyes as her hand made soothing, circular motions along his back. Her fingers brushed against his wings, to the uneven roots of the wings on his back. Volga shivered at this, and he realized why she had paused. "Volga… are… are your wings broken?"

She pulled back slightly to look at him. Volga met her eyes, and he could see the confusion in them, the sadness… the concern. "Yes," he managed to articulate. "But like a lizard's tail when it comes off, it grows again. I think that if I ever manage to… fully transform into a dragon," he said the last part with some difficulty. "Then the wings will grow to the way they were supposed to."

"Why are they -" she trailed off, tracing along the linear scars on his back, around the area that the wings were attached to. Her voice grew strained. "These were cut off… weren't they?"

"My memories of them being cut off are vague," he said quietly. "I remember saws, and faceless people. Faceless, because I think I forced my mind to see it that way, so I don't remember what they looked like, or who they were. I remember the sound of my own screams deafening my ears at the time, but everything else is blank to me. I guess our minds kind of try to protect us by instinct, when there is an especially unpleasant experience. But I think it's better this way, because it's helped me move on a little better."

He felt a tremor from her body. "That's not right, what's been done to you," she said in a pained voice. "Volga I…" she moved slightly to see his back. "Does it hurt? Whenever your wings come out? Or now, even?"

Volga shook his head. "Not anymore," he said, taken back by how much he was opening to her, and even more by the fact that he felt relieved in doing so. "It used to, but since it began to grow, it bothers me less and less. The wounds now are like small scrapes now, a little bleeding sometimes, but nothing serious. I think my twisted wrist from training with Impa is more troublesome than that right now," he said with dry chuckle. "If it weren't for that, then maybe this claw wouldn't have given me all this trouble today."

"You -" Zelda began. "And you didn't go to the medical wing because of your transformations." She lowered her arms from his back, and took his hand. "Come on Volga, let's go and get you something for that."

He stood up with her, watching her with a growing tenderness. "I don't think anyone in the castle would take it too well if they see me. Hopefully I can make the wings disappear before tomorrow, but I'm not sure how long the claw will take."

"There's poes still around, so there won't be as many people wandering in the castle, since most of them are accompanying each other in rooms with a light source of some type," said Zelda, picking up the lantern from the ground. "Besides, even if someone sees you, then so be it. You're going to be taken care of. Because it's about time someone does."


	6. Vibrance

Something in the air seemed different in such a way that it was almost surreal, like seeing stars across the sky in broad daylight. Like feeling rain upon one's skin in the most arid desert, during a season historically recorded for droughts. Unnatural and aberrant, yet somehow finding a place to belong.

Even this abandoned room did not seem as gloom-ridden, as it had been when he had found it. The furniture, covered and secluded, filled the empty spaces, like musical notes appearing before a blank music sheet. The trinkets that were scattered on the ground must have been once polished, and rearranged. And the paintings… he could almost envision them up on the walls, each telling a story of their own, each exploring buried memories.

Vibrance.

Because that's what Volga could see right now. In every corner, in every shadow, the colors were no longer various shades of gray - they were vibrant, radiating with a light that was not necessarily visible to the eye, but to the imagery of the mind, and the emotions surfacing within. Each step he took, the vibrance moved with him, with _them_ , its light shining brightest from the very source of it all.

And the poes, as she had called them, must have seen it too, so he couldn't have been entirely stripped of his sanity. Those mysterious creatures had been trying to persuade him through the walls he had encased himself in, whispering to him of promises to take away his fears. Perhaps he had thought that they could take away his abilities too, or even the markings. And in his blind hopes, he was nearly ready to succumb to them, unaware of their intention to sap away his very life. But now, as Volga and Zelda reached the corridors, the poes were the ones afraid, not him.

"That light," one of poes whined, using its dark hands to cover its pale eyes. "It burns… it's too bright. How is this possible?" Volga could hear the disbelief in the poe's tone over its protests.

Zelda remained quiet as she held the lantern. The poe shifted its gaze toward him in accusation. "Your light was dim but a moment ago, dying. And now, with this light here, it's so bright that I cannot even tell one from the other. It's like a glowing beacon."

"Be gone, creature of darkness," Zelda spoke, her voice soft and authoritative, an unusual combination. "There is no prey for you here."

The poe retreated, the others soon following, as if intimidated by her presence. By this mere child, who walked amongst ghosts, and led a dragon down an isolated corridor. From the moment she had made the decision to search for Volga in the darkness, pass by all these poes, and then find out what he was - she had every reason to be frightened, and perhaps a part of her was. Yet here she was at his side. 

The familiar warmth of her hand was welcoming to his own, reminding him that she was indeed real.

* * *

When they reached the medical wing, Zelda thought at first, that there was no one there. No patients that she could see, the beds empty and clean. Each bed was separated with a rail next to them, holding a curtain for privacy. Behind one of the partially closed curtains however, there was movement from within. And as Zelda approached, it too heard her movements, for it pulled the curtain wide open.

A plump, middle-aged woman appeared, the nurse, holding a tray of medicine supplies that she had been arranging, presumably from the previous patient she had been treating. Relief flooded her features upon spotting Zelda. “Your Highness,” she said, bowing. "It is dangerous to be walking about the castle right now. Those awful creatures will be gone soon, but -“

She stopped abruptly, her eyes widening when she noticed the shape of Volga's wings behind the princess. From the wings, her eyes darted to his claw, her tray shaking in her hands. Once she lifted her gaze to the markings on Volga's face, she could no longer hold back her horror. The tray slid away from her hold, falling to the ground with a loud clang. The bottles, pastes, and delicate medical utensils all tumbled around the ground, a glass with distilled water shattering from the impact.

"O-oh dear," said the nurse in apology, slowly recovering from her shock. Zelda leaned over to help her, but she held out a hand. "No, it's quite alright, child. I'll take care of this. It is my mess. But that… you… what are you doing here?" and Zelda could tell that she had meant to say 'what is _this_ doing here', but her words were caught up in her fright.

Zelda blinked back at her. This was a reaction she should have seen coming. Volga may have been used to it, but that didn't mean she was. "We did not intend to startle you," she began, feeling it to be more considerate to refer to Volga as 'we' rather than him alone being the cause of the nurse's response. "I don't think the poes will be of any harm to us at the moment. Impa said they would be leaving by nightfall."

"I came because of him. There was an incident while he was training with Impa," said Zelda, turning to glance at Volga, whose face was completely indiscernible right now. A defensive stature, which spoke of years building barriers around himself for moments like these. Moments that he had undoubtedly, come to accept as part of his very existence.

The princess could almost hear the sarcasm in the nurse's voice.

"An _incident_?"

"It's nothing, really," said Volga coolly, addressing the nurse, but not really looking at her. "A minor sprain, that's all. I'm sure it'll go away soon. I shouldn't have come."

Zelda wanted to berate him for his pride, even if she was starting to understand him more. She could not blame him, and yet she did not like the unfairness of it all. It did not have to be this way. "Please," said Zelda hopefully, looking up at the nurse. "This is a place of healing. You have taken care of so many in their time of need. I need your compassion right now, and your courage. Please help him."

The manner that Zelda spoke, with such sweetness, might have moved just about anyone to do what she wished. Even Volga's indifferent facade was losing its resolve. The nurse stared between Zelda, Volga, and the mess she had made on the ground, trying to decide what to do.

“Fine,” she said in defeat, but she did not look any more keen to approach him than she did before. "Go, take a seat on any bed, preferably further away from this mess so you both don't step on anything sharp."

With a relieved Zelda, Volga headed toward one of the beds further away, taking a seat at the edge of the bed in silent astonishment. The nurse followed, wishing to get this over with as soon as possible. She kept a reasonable distance between herself and Volga, still not daring to get any closer. "What did you sprain?" she asked, dreading his answer.

He did not have to answer however, because when he glanced down at his claw, the nurse instantly knew. Zelda could see her face paling. "You can do it," the blonde urged, not wanting the nurse's courage to falter now.

"I don't think I can," said the nurse, looking as if she were about to pass out. Her dark eyes settled on Volga's face. "W-what are you?"

Volga averted his eyes away, and Zelda shook her head at the nurse, the woman she had trusted to take care of everyone for so many years. Deep in, she knew that the nurse had some sort of justification to be scared. It was not in Zelda's place to try and force her to do something that made her uncomfortable. Still, the disappointment was there.

Zelda frowned. "Can you please, at the very least, retrieve the necessary materials that would be needed to treat a sprained wrist?"

Turning around sharply, the nurse complied at once. When she returned, she set an ice pack, balm, and a thick, white wrapping on the nightstand next to the bed. "P-princess, I apologize for my reactions," she said nervously. "But please understand this is very difficult, what you are asking of me. I don't know if I can touch that… thing."

Zelda sighed, reaching out for the ointment on the nightstand. "I will treat him then," she told the nurse. "I only need you to tell me what to do."

* * *

"You… what?"

There it was, that vibrance again, so vivid, that Volga thought he was going delirious. He hadn't eaten all day after all, so perhaps that might have contributed something. 

The nurse did not seem to register what Zelda had said, but when she did, she waited for a few seconds, likely waiting for someone to elaborate on some kind of misunderstanding. Volga wasn’t any less awestruck than she was. If anything, he felt that familiar stir within him in which the princess was becoming a part of. He was both confounded and euphoric at this feeling. And her words…

_You're going to be taken care of. Because it's about time someone does…_

It had not been more than twenty minutes ago when he and Zelda had been in that room, when she embraced him and accepted him for who he was. This acceptance hadn't quite sunk in yet. Years of living among humans were not going to go away anytime soon. It was not a matter of trust either, for he never had the experience of building trust with anyone to start with. Not until he met her.

Then the nurse finally spoke up. "Ah y-yes, Your Highness, as you command. First, you need to identify where the pain on his wrist is coming from to make sure it is indeed his wrist, and not something more serious, such as fracturing a bone. Um, if you could find his wrist, that is." She added the last sentence so quietly, that she hoped that Zelda would not hear. Volga did.

Grabbing a large pillow, Zelda propped it underneath Volga's arm, elevating his claw. Volga wanted to look anywhere else but that claw, yet he could not bring himself to look away while Zelda treated him.

When her skin met his claw, Volga, out of instinct, thought she would grimace, perhaps flinch at the contact. He could only imagine how strange it must be for her to feel mere… scales, dry and coarse, rather than his actual skin. Yet her face did not show any sign of disgust, her two brows arched in concentration of what she was doing.

Volga watched as she outlined along the area that would have been his palm if his claw was back to a human hand. She paused at the conjunction between his arm and claw, looking into his eyes for confirmation. But she saw all that she needed to see.

"It's here, isn't it?" she asked softly.

He nodded in a somewhat hazy state, and she opened the bottle of balm. Zelda continued to follow the nurse's instructions, dabbing a piece of cotton into the balm, before returning to Volga's claw. She gingerly applied the moistened cotton onto his would-be wrist. Volga shut his eyes, but it was not out of discomfort.

"It's almost over," she consoled him.

The nurse, in spite of her squeamish attitude, could not help but be impressed. "My, my, you certainly have an aptitude for this, Princess. You could have potential to be an amazing Healer."

Zelda took the bulky, white wrap, and carefully began to weave it around Volga's injury. "I would like to learn more of this field," she said thoughtfully. "I plan to learn healing through magic, but after today, I feel that I should learn in this method, as well. If it's not much trouble, I would like to visit here more often, and observe your work."

"No, not at all," the nurse replied, and though she had been jittery, there was a certain curiosity in her expression as she observed them. "Well," she said, clearing her throat. "Now that you are done treating him, all that remains is to keep this ice pack on top of his wrap as much as possible, to reduce the swelling. More importantly though is for him to do as little exertion as he can with that arm. He does not have to be in bed all day, but resting as much as he can would certainly help progress his recovery. Please let me know if you require any further assistance from me."

With that, the nurse hurried off to the other side of the room, bending over to pick up the tray she had dropped earlier.

"Did I really do a good job with your injury, or was she just saying that?" Zelda said skeptically, once the nurse was far out of ear-shot, and the curtains had somewhat obscured them from view.

In truth, she had been a little clumsy. She had applied too much balm, and had done the wrapping poorly, resulting in the ends sticking out awkwardly. But none of this mattered. He was so overcome with gratitude for the princess, that the words to compliment and thank her were caught up in his throat. If he was to speak, he was not sure if words would be adequate enough to let her know how much everything she had done meant to him.

She must have seen this in his eyes. Taking the balm from the nightstand, Zelda moved toward his side, to where she was facing his back. Under normal circumstances, Volga wouldn't have let anyone near his wings, not that they would likely have been near anyway. Even if his body wanted to shrink away from the world, he could not bring himself to pull away from this shaky trust that he had created with her. Perhaps she had chosen this moment now, with the nurse away, since she knew these were particularly difficult wounds for him, lest of which he would not have wanted to show anyone.

"I may not be able to heal your past wounds," she whispered, coating the balm with her fingers, and applying it to the expanse of his back. "But I can at least try to fix the current ones." And Volga was pleasantly surprised to find that the balm was rather soothing on the area surrounding his wings. Her _touches_ were soothing. Was this magic? If she could not heal his old wounds, why then, did he feel as if she was doing it? Why did his wings feel so at ease under her touch, when they normally dreaded contact with anything?

And then, something unexpected happened. He felt something warm and soft brush against the skin on his back, between the gap of his wings. It was a foreign and wondrous sensation, and he shuddered in newfound delight. Though his curiosity was piqued, he could not bring himself to move, to interrupt whatever it was that Zelda had done to him.

"Father said that whenever he was injured or hurt," said Zelda fondly. "Mother would kiss him at the spot he was injured. And he would be okay again. Sometimes it would take some time, but it always worked. Maybe someday… maybe someday you'll be okay again, Volga. I hope that your wings grow strong enough, and take you anywhere you wish to be."

In their childish innocence, neither one of them saw these things as something suggestive, or hormonally conflicting. While it was true that they had a… unique sort of friendship, Volga really couldn't have known anything different, and he did not wish to. He was aware that having multiple friends was something considered normal, and perhaps he could welcome that idea in time. But this, whatever it was that he had with her, was not something he wanted to replace, or replicate with anyone else.

A rumbling sound came from his stomach, and they both laughed. "Let's go fetch something for the hungry dragon," she teased, and Volga did not mind the reference. He felt… happiness resonating within him, a tranquility that he associated with by just being in her presence.

 _Where I wish to be_ …

* * *

Deep in a forest far from society, there was a castle. The exterior did not boast the grandeur that Hyrule Castle had. One could almost mistake it for a large, abandoned manor. Bushes surrounded the place, but they were covered in thorns, like a barrier meant to keep people away. Three towers, though barely visible, were located in the back of the castle, one on each corner, and the last one at the center, being the tallest tower.

It was said that no one ever entered the castle before, except the only resident who dwelled there. She was known as the Guardian of Time. No one truly knew who she was, or what she was. Very few people even knew of her existence, the Royal Family being among the few that did. Yet even the Royal Family did not know where she had come from, other than that she was tasked with watching over the balance of the Triforce, the most powerful force in existence.

The interior of the castle could be mistaken for an art gallery, consisting of countless portraits covering just about every space on the walls. Statues and figurines were displayed like what one would see in a craft shop. Moreover, was the fact that the very representation of every artwork was of a young man, clad in a green tunic, and a matching hat.

Most of the artwork featured him as a blond with blue eyes, but there were a few where his hair had been darker. He was sometimes seen as carrying a sword and shield, other times a mythical weapon that no one would ever know from the missing information of stories people had read about. How little the stories actually knew of him. He may as well have been slapped on every story containing a two dimensional hero that always did what was good and right for everyone, never questioning his destiny.

The brush that had been lingering over an incomplete painting snapped, and the Guardian of Time made a frustrated sigh. This had been the third brush she had broken this week. It was not like her to be so clumsy or violent with the objects she interacted with.

As if that hadn't been enough, her visions had been growing more clouded as of late. Her visions of the past were unhindered, still displaying everything she had always known it to be, whenever she wanted to see them. The future however, was too dark to see properly, as if someone had ripped pages from a book, and she was no longer able to read the full story. There had been no new visions of the future since she had last presented the ones of the dragon-human baby to the King of Hyrule.

She told herself that new visions of the future would come when they were meant to. Instead she revisited her vision of the baby, well… who was now a boy, rather. Volga, was it? Yes, this was his name. She looked for an update, anything to give her an indication of what would happen next.

But something had changed.

The vision was still there, but it was blurred. It was like some unknown force was tempering with her vision, challenging her powers. The only image that was clear to her was Princess Zelda's jubilant face, one that the sorceress had grown to become more and more irritated with each time she saw her, no matter what era she had come from.

For Princess Zelda, in all her divinity, was always seen alongside the Spirit of the Hero, Link, across the ages. And in every age, she always called for Link to help, always a damsel in distress and incapable of fending for herself. A pathetic excuse to be called a ruler. And Link always listened, always did what he was told. She did not deserve his protection, as he did not deserve to risk his life for her sake.

How much the sorceress wished, to be able to pull Link away from all the pressure on him, for at least one era, to have him at her side and let him do whatever he pleased.

A deep whisper rang in the air, but the words were too distant to comprehend. When they faded, the witch blinked at her incomplete painting. She had been hearing that voice frequently lately, during times she was feeling some intense emotion, which she used to keep in check.

And then was the final matter of her dreams. She thought at first, she was having another vision, but she knew that even if it was, it was only wishful thinking. Her dreams were of her… and Link, walking side by side in a forest. Link appeared happy, and carefree. And in her hands was the Triforce, the complete relic shining before them.

That had been the extent of her dreams, but she had them nearly every other night. What did this all mean? The lack of future visions, the blurred and incomprehensible ones of the ones she had currently, the dark whispers from time to time, the dreams - were they all a coincidence?

* * *

"Are the poes gone?"

"Yes."

"Every single one of them?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," Impa replied, trying to reassure the king. He seemed more anxious than usual today. "They began to disperse ever since the Goron Captain left with the ring. We've done multiple, thorough searches throughout the entire castle. There is not a single poe left in our vicinity."

The king looked a bit more relieved at this, but the stress was still lined across his face. "I'm worried, Impa," he said tiredly. "This whole mystery with the ring, what if it's a sign? What if it's some foresight of the upcoming war? I cannot help but wonder if burying the ring will suffice, or if I've somehow put the Gorons in danger of the poes."

“The Gorons seem far more resilient to the poes than humans are,” Impa reminded him. "It was a logical choice to entrust the ring to the Goron Captain. Furthermore, we never really had conflicts with the Gorons regarding power, so they have little interest in this ring, as far as we know. They'd likely prefer to eat the gem on it, rather than actually use it." She offered him an amused smile.

He barely smiled back, running a hand through his thin hair. "And what of the boy?" he asked suddenly. "How has his training been coming along? I trust that he has not caused any trouble yet?"

"Ah," said Impa thoughtfully. "I discovered that he was able to transform his arm into a dragon claw. I've also heard reports witnessing he had wings, though it appears he's gotten that back to normal now. It is very likely he has a full form that he changes to, or perhaps, his full form might have been his actual form all along. We really do not know much about him, I'm afraid."

The king nodded in acknowledgement, and Impa continued. "As for him causing trouble, well, he hasn't exactly. But…" she paused, trying to decide on how to explain this to the king without sending him into a frenzy of panic. "Several of us at the castle, including myself, cannot help but notice his… ah, closeness to your daughter."

"Really now?" the king murmured, grey eyes growing more alert. "How so?"

"Yes," said Impa carefully. "Well, they seem to spend a lot of time together. There is no doubt in my mind that Zelda has attempted to befriend him, given her nature. And it seems he accepted. I find this curious, being that the Guardian of Time never told us that they might one day become friends."

A silence followed forth, and Impa could tell the king was already lost in his endless thoughts of possibilities. "Yes, that is curious," he said in agreement. "It's possible she simply had not foreseen this aspect of his life. Strange, I somehow feel more alleviated in hearing this. Perhaps one day when the time comes, he will be easier to… persuade, regarding our decisions for this pending war. And the inevitable revelation to his curse."

"If I might be so bold, Your Majesty," said Impa uncomfortably. "I don't think we should reveal to him of his curse anytime soon, at least, not while he's still a child. It's too much. But I think maintaining a civil relation with him could very well work out in our favor one day, as you have brought up. I will remain… one step forward, and one step back. Mistrustful and alert, but welcoming enough so that I can keep an eye on him and report back anything that could be related to the initiation of his curse."

The king rubbed his temples. "Why am I not surprised that my little girl would…" he trailed off, and sighed. None of this felt like it was happening in the way it was supposed to be. This uncertainty of the unknown left him insecure, and restless.

"Impa, when the boy leaves to go live with the Lizalfos," the king began. "You need to start training Zelda more in combat. And I mean training on a regular basis. I'm afraid her free time will not be as flexible as to what she's been used to. By this, I also mean increasing our security outside our walls. None of this sneaking out business. She's toyed with her freedom enough, but I can't risk putting her in danger whenever she leaves these walls."

This speech was nothing different than usual, coming from the king, and Impa crossed her arms in her chest. "It shall be done," she told him. "But I would advise against how much you want to restrict her. You know her well, and you know she is stubborn."

Of course the king knew this. He did not expect Zelda to react any differently, did not expect her to understand the reasons he did what he did, not anytime soon. She would protest… she might even grow to hate him. Yet unlike most of the rulers in the past, they would be prepared for this war. Zelda would not be someone always waiting to be rescued. She would be protected of course, but she would have the skill to fend off on her own.

For Zelda would be more than just a princess. She would be a warrior.


	7. Reason

Throughout the week, Volga found himself frequently studying with the princess and well… spending time with her in general. He had learned so much in a short time; he learned how to write structured sentences. His vocabulary expanded each time Zelda read to him, or when he tried reading on his own. He learned arithmetic, and understood more of numbers. He learned the history of the main wars throughout the eras, and how they impacted the land. He learned the process of how plants drew sunlight for photosynthesis, and the names of the various star constellations that he and Zelda spent the other night watching them from the rooftops.

He learned that her hair was _slightly_ darker than his own, and how unruly it could sometimes be before she brushed it. He learned that he found himself wondering what the texture would feel like through his fingers, and that he cherished her hair regardless of the condition it was in. He learned of her various facial expressions, and his shy fascination with them. He learned what made her sad and angry. But more prominently, what made her smile and laugh - and that he took delight in doing so.

Unfortunately, he also learned that today was his last day in Hyrule Castle before the trial, as well as his last training session with Impa. He'd been having several training sessions with her by the end of the week, his injury having made a steady recovery in Zelda's watch. His wings and claw had been absent by now, and he only hoped to have need of them for the trial itself.

"You've been showing much improvement on your mobility and reflexes," Impa commented, making a side-step motion with her lance to dodge Volga's jab. "But tell me. What weapon have you felt the most comfortable with so far?"

Volga glanced down at the lance in his hands. "I like the lance," he muttered. "Though I can't say I always like having a shield. It tends to slow me down, and I find that I end up missing opportunities to strike when I rely too much on it."

Impa gave a smile of approval. "You've been learning, I noticed. This is good." She paused. "Have you considered trying the lance, but without using a shield?"

He blinked at her. "I can't say that I have. You mean, the lance just by itself? Like… a spear?"

She nodded, and gestured for him to discard his shield on the grass. Volga did, and though the absence of the heavy shield felt strange, there was something almost… natural to him about using this weapon as one. The weight seemed just right, balanced with his personal preference to be able to be agile, yet aggressive when the time prompted him to be.

The weapon could be used with one hand, or both, so it gave him more options to consider. He opted to start with both for his final spar with Impa. When she moved in for the attack, Volga did not find his hand to be a burden as much as he thought it would. He moved fluidly as he evaded her, able to maintain a firm grasp on the spear as he made a forward lunge. Impa blocked, but Volga had been prepared for that. He wove around her shield, in an attempt to flank her.

Impa turned sharply, meeting his attack with her lance.

"I actually had to work a bit there," Impa panted, sounding a bit miffed. "I feel… you liked this weapon, didn't you? Would this weapon be the one you would bring to your trial?"

Volga hesitated for a few seconds, considering all the weapons he had tried so far. "Yes," he said. "But I'm still willing to learn how to use the other weapons. I want to understand each one as much as I can."

"You can take that spear with you to the trial, then. You have plenty of years ahead of you to practice with other weapons, if you still feel the need to."

He bowed his head. "Thank you, General Impa.”

"A trader should be arriving here shortly," said Impa, as she began to pick up the weapons, clearing the training field they had been practicing on. "He will be taking a shipment of goods to the Dinolfos clan, so I requested for him to take you along. Upon communication with the reptilian chieftains, it seems that this place where you will have your trial is the same place the trader will stop by to drop off the crates."

Volga felt something in his chest tighten. "Oh."

"You don't seem particularly enthusiastic about this trial," Impa observed. "Not that I would be eager myself to plunge into some unknown danger, but… are you afraid?"

He shook his head. "No," he said quietly. "I just don't know when I'll -"

 _When I'll be able to see her again_ …

"Nothing," he said, looking away. "It's nothing."

Impa regarded him for a moment, before she spoke up again. "You know what I think? It is not your inexperienced abilities that hold you back. It's the fact that you have found nothing to fight for yet. Fighting to you, it seems, is nothing more than a clash of weapons and mobility. You have not yet found a purpose to fight."

Volga looked up at her. "And what is your purpose, if I may ask?"

"To protect the Royal Family," said Impa at once. "They have been in constant danger throughout time. They will continue being so in the future. It is my duty to keep watch over them. Zelda, above all. The king does not have many years left in him. Zelda will eventually be tasked with ruling this kingdom on her own. At least, until a prince presents himself to wed her."

He fell silent at this, trying to make sense of the array of emotions going through him. "But the…" he broke off. "The soldiers.”

"What of them?"

"They can't be of more help?"

Impa sighed. "Of course they can. But even so, there is power out there that is beyond our own to stop it. Our soldiers are strong, but not all of them are brave. Our knights are the ones with true courage, some of the finest protectors of the Royal Family - who would risk their life for our king and princess. In fact, many of the ancestors of the family have been knights."

What a difficult life it must have been for the Royal Family, always living in fear of being attacked, or being involved with a war. Impa had mentioned that the king did not have many years left in him… did this mean Zelda would inevitably lose both of her family members? And how would she rule over the kingdom on her own? What if something happened to Impa too, then who would protect her? Impa was not immortal as far as he knew.

_Our knights are the ones with true courage, some of the finest protectors of the Royal Family - who would risk their life for our king and princess…_

“General Impa," he said seriously, his green eyes intense. "I want to be a knight."

"What?" Impa said blankly, unsure she had heard him correctly.

"I want to be a knight," Volga repeated firmly.

She stared at him, dumbfounded. It was apparent that she did not know how to respond to this, at least not right away. And so, she laughed, ceasing the closest he had to a mock-free training session with her. Volga ignored the gibe at his pride, waiting for her to reply.

"You?" she snorted. "A runt who can barely pick up a war hammer, or block with a shield? Kid, please. You can't be serious. How do you expect to fight? Slash and swipe at your enemies with your claw?"

Volga shrugged. "If that is what I must do to defeat them, then yes. I will."

Impa's laughter began to ebb away, realizing that he was indeed, serious. She knew he barely had ambition during their training sessions, so what had changed? "Why?" she asked.

“It is difficult to explain,” he murmured. "But if what you say about me not having a reason to fight is true, then this could give me an indication of where to begin. And I want to be seen as something other than a dragon. A prince can have honor given to him for free, while a dragon would only be revered by its own kind. But as a knight, then maybe… just maybe, I can have a chance to be something more."

All traces of amusement completely left Impa. She was staring at Volga as if she was seeing him for the first time.

Finally, she spoke. "Becoming a knight is not something that can be achieved so easily, or quickly. For some, they are already seasoned enough soldiers to be able to carry through knight training with ease, and even then, the training is still rigorous. For others, it can take years for them to master their training. There is simply no way that you will be able to become a knight before you leave here for your trial. You would have to visit here several times a week while living in Eldin. The traveling would be most inconvenient for you, too."

"But if I could find a way to continue the training after my trial," Volga protested. "If I could find a means of traveling efficiently, would you consider training me? I will do whatever it takes to be accepted."

The Sheikah looked deep in thought. "Perhaps," she replied. "You would still need the king's consent, regardless. If you complete this trial however, I may be more… inclined to persuade the king to consider your future visits."

Volga's eyes lit up with hope. "Really?"

He thought he had imagined it, but Impa's lips almost curved into a smile. "Don't get ahead of yourself though. There may be opportunities in the future for you to learn more. In the meantime, you have a trial to tackle. I wish you luck… Dragon Knight."

For some reason, that title rang really well in his head, whether Impa was doing it to mock him or not.

* * *

Volga had stuffed his belongings in the rucksack he had brought when he first arrived there, though it was considerably fuller this time than before, with all the gifts Zelda had given him. Clothing, books, sweets, and more - were all crammed inside. He made sure to bring the essentials, such as fruits, bread, and a flagon of water. Something was missing, however he could not place what it was. His mind hadn't been entirely focused on packing to start with.

He was surprised Zelda hadn't swung by his quarters, or well, looked for him at all today, seeing that she knew he'd be leaving. It was difficult enough for him find his own will to say good-bye, let alone to search for her. But Volga did search, visiting the many places they had spent time together. Yet they were all empty, devoid of her presence.

"I don't mean to be rude," said the Goron trader impatiently, who had been waiting for him at the entrance of the castle. "But I don't have all day to wait for you to find everything. The horses are getting fidgety outside too, and the crates are all ready to go. You're the only one I'm waiting on."

Volga nodded absently, as he caught sight of the king. Approaching him, he gave Zelda's father a bow. "Thank you for having me over, Your Majesty," he said earnestly. "Thank you for everything."

The king watched him behind an inscrutable gaze. "I hope you do well in your trial, Volga," he remarked. "Were you able to find Zelda?"

"No," Volga grasped the helmet he had been holding in his arms. “She probably just - had something important to do."

"Possibly," said the king frowning. "Though it's odd, because I saw her a mere hour ago. Ah, but I'm sure she'll be writing to you soon though. She's rather fond of you."

"S-she is?" he blurted. "I mean… yes. I'm quite fond of her too, Your Majesty."

"That is quite clear to me," the king's voice did not sound reproachful, but more of a genuine curiosity. "But Volga, I should advise you of the… consequences of attachment. Understand that for the next several years, Zelda will be under strict training in preparation for the war. She will not be allowed to see her friends, nor be given the chance to spend any time outside the castle's walls. She has already been limited to start with, but any kind of attachment would sway her away from her duty. You do not realize the difficult times we are about to face."

"I don't wish for her to be in danger," said Volga, in a desperate plea for the king to understand. "I want to help. I spoke with Impa about becoming a knight someday, and I -"

"I'm sorry, Volga," said the king solemnly. "But right now, the last thing we need is a dragon hovering about the castle. I do not mean to sound harsh, but you must trust me when I say this. Your fate lies in a dark place, something I do not have the courage to divulge to you today. Someday, you will understand."

* * *

Volga had not said a word throughout the entire trip, his face hidden behind his helmet. He did not have a notion as to how tightly his fingers held the spear Impa had provided for his use during the trial.

"Here we are," said the Goron trader glumly, adjusting the reins on the horses so that the cart came to halt. "Looks like the Dinolfos trader is already here too. Good. The quicker I can get out of here, the better."

The Dinolfos approached them, its slitted pupils growing slightly larger when it spotted the crates of apples in the cart. "You brought both the boy, and the applesss," the creature hissed. "Excellent."

"And the food?" the Goron inquired, stepping out of the driver's seat, Volga following along shortly after.

A pause, then the Dinolfos cackled. "Food… food, you mean the rocksss, yes? They are right over here. You can place the cratesss of apples at the entrance of the cave."

For the next few minutes, the Goron began to haul the crates of apples to where the Dinolfos requested, grunting at one particularly heavy crate. The Dinolfos circled around Volga in wonder, like a vulture circling a potential prey.

"I can sense the dragon in you," the Dinolfos stated with interest. "But you seem so… _human_."

Volga did not bother to reply, his head raised, eyes staring through the holes of his helmet, not really looking at the Dinolfos, but through him.

"The crates are all there," the Goron interrupted. "And your end of the bargain was fulfilled, now packed in my cart. I appreciate the trade. I will be off now."

When the Goron left, Volga turned to take a closer inspection upon the cave before him.

Something about the cave seemed out of place amidst the barren wasteland, as if the formation of its rocks had been created there by accident, rather than the natural erosion over time. It was impossible to surmise the depths this cave stretched out to. For the mouth of the cave started off in a downward slope… and goddesses only knew how far down it went.

"Is there a particular cave exit I should keep an eye out for when I'm done with the trial?" Volga asked dully. "Or am I expected to come back through the same way I came in?""

The Dinolfos's eyes glinted with an orange glow, reflected from the sun setting in the sky. "It doesss not matter which cave exit you use. Assuming you find another cave exit that isss," he cast a hint of a smirk. "And assuming you live long enough to find an exit in the firssst place."

How very reassuring. Though Volga did not really expect anything less.

"If you do happen to make it far inside," the reptilian continued. "The Dinolfos and Lizalfos chieftains will be there to witness whether you pass or fail the trial."

Suddenly, what sounded like a distant roar reverberated from within the cavern, and for an abrupt few seconds, the earth vibrated. Volga glanced down to see that the pebbles and small rocks were quavering on the ground. Then it all stopped.

"Ah yesss," said the Dinolfos in acknowledgment, apparently having expected this to happen. "I almost forgot to mention of the occasional earthquakess. If you can avoid being squashed by the rock fallsss and large boulders, you might be lucky enough to meet the beast that resides within."

Volga narrowed his eyes. "Lucky," he repeated. "Right. I appreciate the… warning."

With his spear in hand, and his belongings all packed on the rucksack on his back, he faced the cave entrance before him, and began to make his way inside. If this was his death sentence, he would face it, head-strong, and not as a coward. If knights were honored for their courage, then he would be too.

* * *

The cave was surprisingly well-lit, at least from what he had seen so far. Along its rugged walls were garnets that fluctuated between red and orange, its glow enabling him to see his path. Volga could not understand a Goron's appetite for rocks, but he could see why they would be interested in trading for the resources within, because everywhere he treaded contained a seemingly endless trail of earths and minerals. He wondered why the Gorons could not simply come inside, until he remembered the beast the Dinolfos had spoken of. 

What would he fight, exactly? Would defeating this beast be his actual trial? Did the beast already sense his presence?

Though what unnerved Volga was that he had not stumbled across a single sign of life on sight; no wandering creature or a stray plant, not even a bug scurrying about along the crevices of the walls. He'd been exploring for some time by now, treading further and further below within the cavern.

All he could hear were the sounds of his own footsteps, as muffled as he tried to make of them. Stealth was not his expertise. He could also detect a trickling noise, which could potentially be relevant to the dank and musty scents in the air. Yet there did not seem to be any water source nearby.

Were the creatures the ones hiding? Perhaps they sensed what he was, like that Dinolfos trader had. In some ways, this was a relief, and gave him a rare and an unexpected appreciation for being associated with a beast that was so readily feared. Zelda's influence had sparked his confidence in that he did not feel a need to constantly dread how humans judged him. That he could start seeing his abilities as something to be honored, rather than to run away from.

Volga found that for the first time, he actually missed having his claw available to him. If only he knew how to control his transformations, so that he unleash them whenever he needed to, and not at unpredictable intervals that had often gotten him into trouble.

Due to the silence, he was caught off-guard when the cave suddenly shook. This was going to take some getting used to. Misshapen chunks of the ceiling broke off, rocks from above and around the walls tumbling into the area. Volga quickly ran forth to try and avoid the rock falls, debris catching onto his clothing as he did so.

Jagged stones heavily collided behind him, its sharp edges snagging onto his rucksack, and tearing off the straps, before disappearing into the rubble behind him. Swearing audibly, Volga stood with his back to the wall along the next area of the cave, waiting for the quake to subside. He only moved again when the rocks stopped falling.

The area he had come from was almost entirely blocked off by rocks. He realized he would likely not be able to use this same path to exit the cave, unless he planned to stay here for days shifting rocks around. Volga searched through the rubble, trying to find out where he had lost his rucksack. He had all his belongings in there, including necessities such as food and water.

After a strenuous session of trying to clear the rocks from where he was crouched over, Volga was able to recover some of his missing supplies. He found a loaf of bread wrapped in a crinkled napkin, flattened by the weight of the rocks upon it. It was better than nothing, but the rations would not go for more than two days, and he considered that he would likely have to hunt, depending on how long he found himself in this cave.

Volga found very little of what remained of his possessions. It was by some miracle that he was able to find his parchments and books Zelda had given him, unharmed, the worst of it being some dust on the covers. He brushed it off, and placed his belongings in the torn rucksack. He would have to carry it now, since the straps were broken. And he would have to get out of here soon, before the ground would shake again, or he’d end up having every path blocked off.

* * *

He ambled back to the direction he had been heading to, continuing down the cave. There, he saw something. The first sign of creatures. There was an opening far up along the wall, where a group of bats had been hanging, up-side down, their wings folded around themselves. Their yellow eyes fixated upon Volga, or rather, at the sound of his movements.

If they didn't disturb him, then he didn't really have any reason to provoke them. He could feel their gaze upon him as he walked by. And the distant sound of footsteps. He was being watched. But it was not only by the bats.

Volga turned around, his eyes scouting his surrounding, but there was nothing. Unsettled, he walked around cautiously, catching sight of two unusual statues parallel to one another, like guards situated at a post. The statues were both identical, featuring ancient designs of a mouth at the bottom. The top of the statues were rounded, outlined in the shape of an eye, but they were shut. Upon Volga's approach however, the eyes on both statues slid open.

"Watch out!"

Three things happened at the same time; he saw a flash of light from the eyes of the statues, shooting a beam that reached all the way across the area, a scream of warning, and something shoving him to the ground. Disoriented, Volga shifted beneath the weight on top of him, trying to figure out what had transpired. He was met with a pair of familiar blue eyes.

" _Zelda_?!" he said in disbelief.

"Shhh," she said urgently, glancing in the direction of the statues. "Don't move. Their eyes are closed again. We're just barely out of their sight."

Volga lay there, motionless, though the hammering inside his chest was quite the opposite. He watched as Zelda slowly climbed off of him, in a manner so fluid and quiet, that she resembled a feline. And her clothes too, did not even make a ruffle of a sound, a purple dress tunic, with a belt around her waist. She reached for a dagger, strapped to one of her brown, leather boots.

"Do you have anything explosive with you?" she asked.

He shook his head at the bizarreness of this question, curious as to what she intended to do. "I can produce fire though," he said after a few seconds.

"That might do," said Zelda thoughtfully. She handed him her dagger. "Do you think you can maintain a fire around this blade?"

Volga took the dagger, holding it by the grip. "I can try," he said, shocked by how light the weapon was. "What are you -?"

"When the eye opens again," she explained. "I will throw this dagger at the statue's eye. Since we do not have a means for general explosion, we'll have to be more accurate with where its weak points are. Those statues are called Beamos. They are security statues. I've seen father place them in the castle before, but they don't look like these. These appear far more ancient."

Though he had a ton of questions in his mind, Volga knew now was not the time to make them. He closed his eyes, focusing on channeling the fire from within his body, relishing in the fact that he was actually asked to use his abilities. A flame floated above his palm, and he redirected it toward the blade.

The fire encircled the hilt, enchanting the weapon with flames. The combination produced an unnaturally bright light, as if the rays had come from the very sun. "This dagger,” he began. "This dagger wasn't man-made was it?"

"Correct," Zelda replied, watching the fire in awe. "I conjured it."

"You… _conjured_ it?"

"Impa's been trying to teach me to conjure weapons," she said hastily. "A rapier is my goal, but so far, all I've been able to conjure are daggers and arrows. This magic draws power from light, unlike the summoning of creatures, which is a completely different kind of magic."

Intrigued by this side of her that he had not known, Volga handed her the dagger back. "Careful so that the flames don't burn you," he said worriedly.

"But Volga, look… your flames…"

And he soon realized what she was talking about. The flames he had produced were in fact, _not_ burning her. They did not even catch onto her sleeves. Had he somehow, unconsciously, willed his powers to be able to do that? He was only ever able to keep himself from being burned, and sometimes his clothes, but never was he able to control the fire so that it would not burn someone else. Not that he tried burning others yet, but that was beside the point.

"Alright," she said, opening a rucksack of her own that she had brought. She grabbed an apple from inside, and turned to Volga. "I will use this as a distraction. Once the beams are focused on it, I'm going to take advantage of the distraction to strike the statue."

Another flame surged from Volga's fingers, and this time, he directed it toward his own weapon. "I'll take the other statue," he said, coordinating with her lead.

With a nod, Zelda tossed the apple in the direction of the Beamos. The bright laser shot from their eyes, instantly obliterating the fruit. Not even a seed of it remained. Volga's eyes widened. That could have been him, if it were not for Zelda. That could have been Zelda.

"Zelda, wait -" he said, not wanting her to risk herself. But Zelda was already in motion.

She threw the dagger toward the Beamo at about mid range, hitting it slightly above the eye, but still striking the target, nevertheless. Volga rushed over, taking the opportunity to handle the other statue while it was confused, plunging the spear right into its eye. Both children took several steps back at the sounds of malfunction, before the statues boomed into pieces of scrap and metal.

* * *

"You arrived here inside a _crate of apples?_ "

"Yes, Volga," said Zelda, laughing at the skeptical expression on his face. "I was in that cart behind you the whole trip. The ride wouldn't have been so bad if I could actually see anything from the crate."

"Why?"

It was a simple word, and yet that one word contained so much that he wanted to ask her. They continued in the cave, neither really following one another, but rather walking along together.

"You did not really think I would just stand back idly as you put yourself into danger, did you?" she said adamantly.

Volga, still not used to having anyone show such concern for him, looked at her in confusion. "But," he argued. "This wasn't just any ordinary retreat you made from the castle. You would not put yourself in such risk, not without an important cause."

"And your life is not an important cause?"

Stunned, he found himself stumbling over his words. "It was the trial given to me, not to put your life in danger with me. You could have died!" he gave her an intense glare, a fierce expression on his usual mellow regard for the princess.

"So could you," said Zelda calmly.

He said nothing at that, crossing his arms in his chest, resembling someone very familiar. "Well, we go back, then," he said decisively. "We go back and get you out of the cave. Then we'll search for the nearest outpost so that you can be escorted -"

"In case you have forgotten," she reminded him. "The path that we came from was blocked off from the rocks. So it's best we continue together, rather than retrace old steps that cannot be followed."

Still not convinced by this plan, Volga could not help but question his own motives. He could not deny that he was overjoyed to see her, and it brought him some ease in knowing that he would be able to spend a little more time with her, even if she never sought him out to say good-bye. The selfish part of him wanted her here with him, but another part of him wanted her to be safe.

It was not that he was skeptical of Zelda's own abilities. In truth, he had been thoroughly impressed with what she had been capable of, and her wisdom with how she was able to dissect the issues, and reconstruct the situation. Already she was displaying the quality of a tactician, and a natural born leader.

"I've brought extra supplies you know," said Zelda, as if trying to make a point. "I may have been stubborn to come here, but I'm not without _some_ aspect of resourcefulness."

Volga mentally scolded himself. "No, no," he said quickly. "Zelda, you don't… you don't have to prove anything to me. You don't have to feel a need to be strong all the time, not around me. You've done more for me already than I could even think on how to repay you."

“Volga…“

“Are you alright with us making camp here before we rest?” he asked her, the stress in his tone. “I can't focus on anything right now. I think some reading and something to drink will help clear my mind."

Zelda gave his shoulder a soothing squeeze. "Relax," she said softly. "I'll take care of the drinks, and set up camp. Pick any book you would like to read with me, and I'll join you shortly."

_I wonder, if one of the reasons you couldn’t say good-bye to me is because I don’t want to say it either…_


	8. Parting

It was almost inconceivable to think, that amidst the crumbling rock falls, of statues that could disintegrate anything that moved into dust, and of a beast residing somewhere in this very cave - that one would be able to find a time and place to actually relax. To temporarily cast aside all logical concerns until the need for sleep would inevitably take over. But for Volga, sleep was a thorn to him at the moment.

The pair had spent several hours reading short stories next to the campfire Volga had made. They coursed through different genres, and each time a story was finished, they would eagerly pull up another book to read.

"Why is it," said Volga, frowning. “That in nearly every fairy tale with a dragon, the dragon is always a villain? And why does the hero or prince always end up being with the princess?"

He was unaware of how sulky he had come off sounding, or the movement of his lips that was closely resembling a…

"Volga," said Zelda in amusement. "Are you _pouting_?"

"I am not!" he protested. "Dragons do not pout."

“This one does," said Zelda, grinning.

With an indignant grumble, he hid his face behind a book. "I just think it's an overdone concept in fairy tales, that's all," he muttered. "I mean, what if the dragon never wanted to lock up the princess in a tower? What if he just…"

_What if he just wanted to be with her?_

Volga did not dare bring up his jumbled thoughts, let alone understand them. “If he,” he repeated softly, not finishing his sentence.

"It would be a nice change of pace, I think," Zelda supplied, filling his uncertain silence, for which he was grateful for. "To give the dragon a happy ending for a change, wouldn't it? Maybe something like this."

He watched as she took one of the parchments scattered on the ground between their bedrolls. She placed the parchment on top of a massive dictionary and grabbed her quill, using the hard cover of the book as a surface for her to write on.

"What do you think?"

Zelda handed him the parchment she had been quietly working on for the past minute. But it was not writing she had done. It was a drawing. Well, a rather distorted doodle to be precise, in which he couldn’t make out what it was supposed to be yet. It seemed however, that she was aware of this.

"That's a dragon," she said, looking embarrassed. "I know, I know, it looks like some deformed lizard with wings. I haven't exactly been blessed with artistic talent. And next to him is supposed to be a lady dragon."

"Lady dragon?" Volga quipped, raising an eyebrow, unsure of what to make of it.

“Well yes,” said Zelda. "I just thought… since the prince and princess have a happy ending together, then the dragon should have something like that too. I know her drawing looks awful though. Here, I'll redo her." She scribbled out the female dragon with the quill.

Volga was not sure what made him do it. "I'll redo it," he offered, unprepared for the hurt that had been unintentionally caused. He inhaled a shaky breath, and fumbled with a few books, placing them beneath the parchment.

He left the male dragon Zelda had drawn untouched, and began to draw on the space next to it, the other side from where the scribbled out female dragon was. His artistic talent was not much better than Zelda's, but what he had drawn was far easier, not to mention more pleasant to him. He smiled at the sight of it.

"Can I see?"

Volga's eyes widened when he realized what exactly he had drawn. "N-no," he said quickly, flipping the parchment over so that it wouldn't be within view.

It was Zelda's turn to pout now. "Awww, please? It can't be worse than mine."

His cheeks were burning, but he did not care. "Maybe," he said reluctantly. "Maybe someday. But not now."

Someday.

* * *

Zelda stirred in her bed roll after what felt like a relatively quick sleep, but in reality, had been longer than she thought. Not that she could tell, since there was no sign of what time of day it was from where they were in the cave. She was surprised to find that her bed roll was not that uncomfortable, given that she had been accustomed to her grand, plush mattress from her royal bed at home.

Home.

It had dawned on her that she did not even think of her 'home' until now. Zelda had never been so far from the castle before, and while the idea would have normally made her more enthusiastic, she could not help but feel a little guilty as to how worried Impa and her father must be. She wondered how long it would take them to find out she had snuck here, if they hadn't already. She only hoped that they would not try to go through the cave themselves, or put themselves in danger, for her sake.

In a way, it was a bit of a shame that during her trip to this place, she had spent all of it hiding inside the crate of apples, rather than be able to have the chance to take in the sight of Hyrule. It would have been nice to be given this opportunity. However, she had not come here for another mere sneak attempt for freedom.

Volga. He seemed… off today, somehow. Like he was not really there, but his body moved for him. His face looked tired, making him appear older than he actually was. He was out of focus too, clumsily spilling the water he had tried to pour onto his flask.

"Here, allow me," said Zelda, taking the flask from his hands, her skin briefly touching his. At this, Volga's body gave an involuntary start, nearly dropping the flask. Zelda caught it by the handle just in time. Pouring the water into the flask, she handed it back to him, surveying him with concern.

"Sorry," he said, fixating his eyes on the flask, as if trying to avoid looking at her.

Zelda frowned. "You didn't get any sleep, did you?"

"I…"

And the cave trembled.

* * *

This time, it was not a minor seismic spurt, but the sound of heavy footsteps, growing louder by the minute. With each step, rocks and dust particles would lapse from the ceiling and wall. Volga, now fully alert, glanced around to make sure they would have a place to run to, should the need arise, but unfortunately, they were at a dead end. The only way out was through the direction those footsteps were coming from.

He could see a slanted shadow from the tunnel, which the creature was in no doubt, about to turn around the corner.

When the beast came into view, the first feature he had noticed were the curved claws, saturated in a blood red. Then its face emerged, slowly turning to stare at them. Red eyes gleamed in the shadows, as the rest of its body stepped into the lighting emitted from the gems, both from the cave, and from the beast itself.

Golden scales covered the creature's massive form, a somewhat rounded shape in the way it was hunched over, though its head was held high from its short neck. Two red horns were protruded from either side of its head, curling slightly at the tip. What looked like red crystals, or rubies, ran along its back and joints.

The beast paused in its footsteps, a reasonable distance away, but not far enough that it wouldn't be able to crush them in a single step, if it so desired to. Volga's grip clenched around his spear as he held his ground protectively, moving in front of Zelda.

"How curious," the golden creature drawled, its deep voice echoing along the walls. "So you are the mighty dragon that the lizard folk speak so much of? You, who have come here to pass the trial, and have made it thus far. Why, may I ask, are you in that pitiful, human form? Where is your true form, the one that Volvagia bore so proudly?"

Volga took a step forward, staring back into the creature's eyes, unwilling to show it any fear. "This form is a part of me," he said, resolute. "Are you the one to let me know what my trial is? Who are you?"

"I am King Dodongo," said the beast, opening its mouth wider, displaying sharp fangs that were almost as long as Volga's arms, glistening from the red reflecting its crystals. "And I am the one who will conclude your trial. You will first face me in battle. Not to the death, but as a means of measuring your strength. However, I will not be held responsible if you are killed. I have no intention of holding back."

"Now, now King Dodongo," a young voice hissed, a Dinolfos arriving from the same tunnel the monster had come from, followed by a group of more reptilians. This Dinolfos looked smaller than the other one Volga had seen, and he could only assume it was a hatchling, maybe around his own age even. "You should go at leassst a _little_ easy on him. He's in that human form after all."

A Lizalfos, who must have been one of the chieftains, placed a clawed hand on the smaller Dinolfos's shoulder. "Amusei, my son, pleassse don't tempt Lord Dodongo. This isss a trial, not a game."

There were more Lizalfos and Dinolfos, but Volga reverted his attention back to Dodongo. He did not want an audience, but it seemed he had little choice in the matter.

"Volga," Zelda whispered. He turned around, catching sight of the worried look on her face. "Are you sure about this? I can try and -"

"Look, Mom," said Amusei, approaching the princess with hungry eyes "The dragon's brought a human. Is this our snack while we watch the battle?"

Volga, without thinking, lunged forward toward the Dinolfos, pointing the tip of his spear at its scaly neck. "Don't you dare touch her," he growled, before raising his eyes to glare at all of them. "That goes for all of you."

What appeared to be the Dinolfos chieftain, made a move in Volga's direction, but the Lizalfos chieftain who had spoken up earlier stretched out her arm to stop him. "Everyone calm down," she said warily. "Thisss is Dodongo's fight, not ours. Leave the human alone for now."

"Geez, so defensive," Amusei mumbled, rubbing its neck after Volga hesitantly pulled away.

Everyone began to step back as Dodongo settled himself ready for battle, making sure to give the two combatants plenty of space.

"Alright little dragon," Dodongo jeered. "Let us see what you're made of."

* * *

Volga consoled himself with the notion that due to Dodongo's size, the creature would be slower to hit him, and have a difficult time keeping up with the blond's agility. Speed wasn't everything however, because Dodongo could provide obstacles simply by _moving_ , and Volga would likely have to focus on more than just Dodongo to keep up with the battle.

He remembered Impa's words about trying not to rely on blocking, though even if Volga wanted to, he was not sure what attacks _would_ be blockable by this enormous creature. He waited for Dodongo to make the first move, unsure of what to expect, but ready to react, his lack of sleep long leaving him. Volga was so alert now that it was almost impossible to tell he had missed sleep at all.

"Allowing me to make the first move?" Dodongo questioned. "How very noble of you."

Volga saw a blur of red, as Dodongo raised its claws at him in a diagonal swipe. His reach was deceivingly long considering the short arms, and Volga jumped sideways, ducking his head as he did so. He was testing Dodongo's range, trying to grasp how far or how close he should be depending on what Dodongo did. Volga had to figure out when Dodongo left himself open, when it was safe to attack.

Suddenly, Dodongo opened his mouth wide - as wide as it could possibly go. Volga thought at first, that the beast was going to try and eat him, but instead, Dodongo was inhaling the air; he could see wisps of smoke circling around his mouth. Volga could feel the heat coming from Dodongo, could see the orange glow in its mouth. Could he block it, perhaps? Or should he evade?

The inhale had taken a bit longer than Volga had expected, giving him several more seconds of suspense as he debated on what to do. When Dodongo exhaled however, Volga was not prepared by the sheer size of the fire ball that flew in his direction. This was not a fire ball. It was a ruddy meteor.

Volga held up his spear in front of him, knowing he would not have time to evade. As he suspected, the attack was not blockable, and Volga took the blast, square in front of him. He was knocked backwards, slamming into the wall. The impact from which his body and the blast hit the wall caused the ceiling to shake above him.

He groaned, rolling on the ground to avoid the rock falls. He could hear Zelda's voice, aghast, in the background, his eyes hazy as they fixated on the golden creature approaching him.

The fire did not harm him as much as it would have to a normal human, the scorch marks more like minor sun burns, rather than permanent damage to the skin. It was the collision against the wall that was irksome, his ribs stinging with pain. Volga grunted as he stood up to his feet. He'd done enough scouting. It was time for him to start attacking.

Volga decided to try and strike Dodongo from the sides, now that he had seen the dangers of what fighting Dodongo face to face could pose. He knew he would still have to watch out for Dodongo's slashes, but if he could manage to avoid them quick enough, perhaps he could start a couple of jabs when the opportunity presented himself.

Dodongo swatted at him with his claws, irritated by the positioning in which he would have to take the time to turn his head in order to keep Volga on sight. The beast gave a growl of annoyance when he felt the spear thrust against the side of his stomach. Volga's eyes widened at the durability of Dodongo's scales. What should have been a deep cut was merely a scrape on Dodongo's body, his hide as thick as armor. But the damage was still enough to vex the beast.

Growing tired of turning his head, Dodongo decided to do a short jump each time Volga changed direction. Each time Dodongo jumped, each time he stomped, the cave rumbled with him. There had to be somewhere else he could strike.

 _His mouth_ , he thought, remembering how long it had taken Dodongo to charge his fire ball. If he could do it again, then perhaps he could try and strike inside his mouth, and channel his weapon with his own fire, as he had done with the Beamos when he and Zelda didn't have explosives at their disposal.

Dodongo's body curled into a ball, resembling a giant boulder, before rolling toward his direction. Volga threw himself to the left on the ground, panting as he glanced up to make sure Dodongo wasn't still with enough momentum to keep rolling. The monster nearly ran over the group of wary reptilians. "Back away some more," Dodongo snapped at them. "This area is not going to hold out for much longer."

And Volga found that he was correct. The walls and ceiling, having taken repeated damage from Dodongo's movements, were falling apart in catastrophic amounts. It was not just the rocks from above and around that Volga suddenly had to worry about, but _below_. The ground began to shake beneath him, and to his horror, crevices formed along what had been flat space a moment ago - breaking apart, and now falling into open air.

Dodongo was completely unperturbed by this, keeping himself and the reptilians just out of range from where the ground began to split open. "You know what's beneath us, little dragon?" he said smoothly. "Beneath this very ground lies a bottomless abyss. Whatever surface it might have once been is not a surface of being walked upon… it is a surface of the dead. If one is actually able to fall through the entire abyss… then well, at least your body will be crushed before the dead devour you alive. During wars long ago, certain forces would toss their enemies into this pit as a means of disposing of their bodies."

Being told this kind of information, while making sure the ground didn't split beneath where he stood - wasn't exactly helping to ease his nerves. Volga looked up at Zelda, to tell her to retreat to where the reptilians were, but she was already doing so.

Only… she was in a bit of a predicament. There were cracks on the ground completely surrounding her, making it impossible for her to step anywhere safe. Jumping did not even seem feasible… there was no way Zelda would have made it across the entire area in a single leap. She caught his eye, and she knew. She knew that she wouldn't have been able to make it.

 _No_ …

The ground surrounding her broke free, and she scrabbled at the rocks with her hands, making an effort to try and hold on to something, but they fell with her.

"NO!"

Volga cried out, jumping into where she had fallen.

* * *

"Is he _crazy?_ " Amusei exclaimed, eyes wide with disbelief.

A young Lizalfos had her mouth open in shock. "Did he really just…?”

While the two hatchlings blabbered on, the chieftains said nothing, mulling over what could have possibly brought him to do that… for a mere human. Even Dodongo appeared taken back. "Well," he said after a moment. "I suppose his death will mean the end of the trial then. What a shame, I was starting to exert myself a bit to keep up with him."

* * *

Zelda could not scream. She was falling too fast for her voice to function, her stomach clenching in such a way that she felt sick. Her life was flashing before her eyes, not with light, but in a blur of wind and darkness. She tried reaching blindly for anything she could grab onto, her survival instinct still fighting inside her, still pressing her to go through everything until the very end.

Yet in this empty space, fate had other plans, taunting her strong-willed nature, daring her to try and defy gravity. Condescending and moralizing, like punishing a petulant child for finally not getting their way. Her wit would not scheme a way out of this, her powers and magic would not suddenly manifest into a guardian angel to reach out to her.

But something did reach out to her.

A shadow loomed above, though it was impossible to discern anything right now, not with her mind slipping in and out of conscious. She felt something snag around her waist, an exceedingly firm grip. Whatever it was, seemed to be placing the utmost care in lifting her carefully to where she could finally feel something solid beneath her.

_I stopped falling…_

Zelda's eyes slowly opened, her cheek leaning against an array of deep, red scales. She brushed her thumb across its dry smoothness, a certain familiarity tugging at her memory from this texture. She felt strangely… safe, even though her mind had not yet fully registered what was happening to her.

Something was tickling her neck, and she lifted her head weakly to find tendrils of a golden mane flowing in front of her, seemingly on fire. But it did not burn her. She gasped, overwhelmed by what she was seeing. By what he had done.

"Volga," she mouthed his name off her lips, the sounds barely escaping her throat.

The dragon turned his head to glance at her, fierce green eyes larger than she had ever seen them. Two dark horns curled around on either side of his elongated head. Then he turned his face away quickly, perhaps ashamed of her having seen him in this form. She shifted slightly so as to not put a strain on his wings, her arms woven around his long neck as he began to prepare to ascend.

Rocks were still plummeting from above, and Volga flew from side to side to try and evade them, two of them grazing his armored shoulder. They had been a long way down. Zelda could hear a strange assortment of inhumane growls and moans coming from beneath them. She glanced down and felt her blood turn cold. Corpses were surfacing from the bottom of the abyss, as if they had materialized from the very shadows.

Re-deads.

Zelda had heard of them before. Impa once read her a story about them hunting for stranded children, likely to scare Zelda from sneaking out at night during one of the times Impa caught her. Zelda had laughed at the absurdity of it at the time, but she was not laughing now. Seeing them before her eyes was an entirely different matter.

One of the Re-deads was about to latch onto Volga's tail. Zelda knew that reaching for her dagger, let alone use her arms, would not be wise at the moment. Instead, she worked with her feet, pressing the tip of her boots, at the outstretched arm, and kicking it, hard. The decomposed arm snapped, causing the Re-dead to fall back down with the the mass of bodies that were all coming to life. A group began to crawl up the walls, trying to reach them.

Zelda felt Volga's heat rise, feeling the flames course through his chest to his throat, before releasing a flamethrower at the corpses beneath them. The flesh burned and melted, but there was still more. It did not matter however, for they were far above them now, as Volga shot himself upwards. Closer and closer to the top they went, before Volga finally emerged from the abyss.

"Mom, look!" Amusei exclaimed, and every reptilian head turned in their direction.

* * *

One would almost think he was a completely different being, with the turnaround of how the reptilians were treating him now, compared to when he had been in his human form. He had not expected to be able to turn into a fully-fledged dragon. He had planned to try and reach Zelda with just his wings, but perhaps part of him knew that his wings would not have been able to fly properly. Even in his dragon form, they felt badly coordinated, lacking practice of use.

"What a magnificent form," Dodongo praised, bowing his large head to him. "I would like to continue our battle, but not today. And I would like to continue, not as a trial, but as a trainer. I should very much like to train you, Master Volga. If you would be willing to accept a place among the reptilian clan."

Volga found it odd to be called 'Master' when he would be the one to be trained, but he didn't really find any reason to object. Not that he trusted any of these creatures yet either, but at least it appeared that one solution was resolved. He surveyed the reptilian chieftains to make sure they were certain.

"That was very reckless, what you did," said the jeweled Lizalfos chieftain, bowing her head at him. "Yet you face death without fear. We are humbled to call you Massster.”

"I'm sssorry for making you angry earlier!" Amusei spluttered. "I hope that we can get along!"

Volga sighed, though the sound came out to be more of a powerful wind sweeping in the cave. He laid down on the ground tiredly, as Zelda carefully slid off his back. They stared at each other for a moment, before Volga dipped his head on top of his front claws, exhausted.

Zelda was out of herself from shock, unsure of how to straighten her thoughts, to bring it back any sense of normality… well, normality for her standards, anyway. But normality had been long gone. She was watching Volga, seeing all of him for the first time - human, partial, and dragon. Now she had an actual proof before her eyes of what he was, and not just from scared jumbles of what she had heard.

And she was intrigued.

Volga felt his face grow hot at her proximity, of her wandering eyes. She appeared somewhat… boldly frightened, but this did not stop her from reaching out to him, tentative and curious. He tensed when her hand touched the top of his head, his body still reacting to her touches, regardless of whatever form he was in.

She sat in front of him, gingerly bringing his head to her lap. A puff of hot air escaped from his snout, driven from him exhaling heavily. Her hands slowly began to explore the sides of his face, along the roughened upper area surrounding his horns, and into his mane, running her fingers through them. Volga closed his eyes, his mind at loss of everything but of utter bliss. He could easily fall asleep like this.

"Human mussst be a dragon tamer."

Volga's eyes snapped open at the sudden comment, and he inwardly laughed at the fact that he had almost forgotten they were there. He turned to the reptilian chieftains.”What happens now?" he asked them, his voice coming out like growls with every syllable.

"You may come with usss whenever you like," replied the Dinolfos chieftain, who had not said a word until now. "But what of the human?"

His green eyes flashed in warning. "She is not to be harmed," he reminded them. If they were indeed, going to follow his orders, then this would be the first rule he would set. "And I need to escort her back to the castle. What is the quickest way out of here?"

"Oh, I just remembered," said the female Lizalfos suddenly. "The quickest path out of here hasss an angry Sheikah outside. I shall show you the way out, it'sss not far from here."

* * *

The storm that had been of the angry Sheikah had come. Fortunately, Volga had managed to revert back to his human form, because he didn't think Impa would be able to handle any more stress than she was doing now.

"Take this sleeping draught and get in the carriage," she told Zelda sternly, pointing a finger at said carriage, where two horses had been stationed in front of it. "Your father and I are going to have a word with you later."

Zelda bit her lip. "Impa, is the sleeping draught really necessary?"

Impa's eyes narrowed dangerously. "It is absolutely necessary. I can't trust you to stay still on our trip home, so you will sleep until we arrive there. No arguments, Princess. In the carriage. Now."

The blonde sighed, taking a gulp of the potion, and heading inside the carriage. "Can I at least speak to Volga before we leave? I don't know how long until I will be able to see him again."

Impa pursed her lips. "Make it quick," she told them, glancing at Volga questioningly. "I shall have a word with your clan, and I'll be right back."

Volga hesitated, before stepping inside the empty carriage. Zelda took a seat on the cold cushion, grabbing the bundle of blanket and pillow that Impa undoubtedly had provided for her trip home. He shook his head gratefully when she offered him a seat, knowing that he was already extending his welcome as it was.

Zelda leaned her head against the small window, her only chance to be able to get a glimpse of Hyrule on her way home - and she would have to be asleep through it. Her eyes were already half-lidded from the sleeping draught having taken effect. Yet her blue gaze was searching, an ambiguous expression on her face. She had that same expression ever since the Lizalfos chieftain had led them out of the cave.

"You could have died, Volga," she said darkly.

He gave a faint laugh. "Coming from the one who saved me from being fried by some statues. And who kicked a dead corpse with her heel."

"But you just … d-did you even know you would be able to transform?"

Volga said nothing at this. He could not really explain to her what had gone through his mind at the time when he watched her fall. Could not explain the sheer terror that gripped his heart, in a manner that made anything else he ever dreaded completely insignificant in comparison. He could not imagine what it would be like now, if he hadn't at least tried, regardless of his own outcome. It was like trying to envision the sky devoid of its sun and moon. Of the absence of stars that would light up an otherwise endless stretch of emptiness and darkness.

Perhaps his silence told her enough. It wouldn't be the first time he communicated with her through this way. She must have meant it when she said his eyes were expressive.

"Hold out your hand," she said softly.

Puzzled, he obliged, watching her curiously. She turned her hair to the side, unfastening some of the lace ribbons that she had tied her hair with, taking a jewel that been adorned at the end of her braid. Volga recognized it of course, because its blue hue reminded him of Zelda's eyes. The top of the jewel was reminiscent of the crystal associated with the goddess, Nayru. What looked like a pair of gold wings enveloped around it, and beneath it, a stone in the shape of a water droplet.

"It's my brooch," she said, handing it to him. "And I would like you to have it. A token of our friendship, and our time spent together. Keep it, so you have something to remember me by."

His eyes widened. "Zelda…"

"You know why I didn't say good-bye to you before the trial?"

He looked up at her, weakly shaking his head. He had wondered this for awhile now, but he never brought it up. Bringing it up at all was a reminder of what neither one of them had the courage to say.

"Because this isn't really good-bye," said Zelda, giving him a sleepy smile, the same one he remembered seeing when she first taught him how to write. "I know we're going to see each other again. Until we do, you'll keep studying, won't you? And that way you can write to me, and read what I write to you."

"Of course I will," he said determinedly. If writing would be his only link to the princess for the next unforeseeable amount of years, then that's exactly what he would do. Having this optional gave him a much needed hope, regardless of its bittersweet nature.

"Then that makes me happy."

Her eyelashes fluttered shut, as her head slid against the window, the covers slipping off of her slumping body. Volga leaned over, and set her head gently on the pillow of the seat. He pulled the covers to her shoulders, absent-minded of his actions. Daring himself to take one final glance at the face of the little girl who had, and who would completely change his life.


	9. Letters

_Princess Zelda,_

_I'm not sure how these things are supposed to work, exactly, since this is my first time doing so. Writing letters. But it's kind of satisfying in a way. Sorry if I have all kinds of errors in my writing. I want to do the best I can to improve. I've been studying those lesson texts you gave me, and I've been comparing them to make sure that at least my spelling turns out correct._

_I haven't really fit in with living in the Eldin Caves yet, but the clan has been more accepting than any human tribe I ever lived with. They seem to prefer me in my dragon form most of the time, so it's been different to get used to._

_I actually started writing this letter earlier, but it's hard to get privacy here. And that little Dinolfos, Amusei, looks up to me now. He follows me around everywhere, like a little brother._

_How have you been? I hope Impa and your father haven't been too hard on you since that day._

_\- Volga_

That had been his first letter to her, and he had gone through great lengths to have his writing revised several times before sending it, his knowledge of words not yet extensive enough to express everything he wanted. He had not received a response from her until a little over a week later. And by the goddesses was he in a mindless delight when he did.

_Dear Volga,_

_I'm so pleased to hear from you! It looks like you beat me to writing the first letter. It also doesn't help that I have to go through so much fuss just to send a letter, let alone be able to receive it without going through some absurd security search. This will cause my letters to take much longer to arrive back to you, so I apologize in advance._

_I can't even imagine how different it must be for you trying to accustom to living there. I'm glad they've been accepting. You know, as strange as this sounds, I found your dragon form to be rather fascinating. I was intrigued enough to search through the castle library to see what more we had on dragons, and well, other than the usual, malicious depictions of them, I found something interesting._

_Did you know that some of our ancient gods were dragons? They were like guardians to the goddesses. The Era of the Sky and Surface actually had three such dragons, and one of them even lived in an environment like yours!_

_Oh, I sent you some food and books with this letter. The food won't spoil, but I'm working on practicing some cold enchantments so that I can send you more options in the future._

_\- Zelda_

He had probably lost count over how many times he had read that. Just seeing her elegant handwriting on the parchment had him absently running his fingers over the dried ink of her letters, as if he could reach out to her through them.

And… she said she found his dragon form to be fascinating. Volga could not yet perceive that their letters would take a long time to reach each other, based on what she initially stated. _Zelda found his dragon form fascinating_. Enough to go and research more about them. Volga did not care if this boosted his ego by a tenfold, he was utterly beside himself with elation.

He had written back to her on the same day he had received that letter, with such eagerness, that his handwriting was choppy, and his thoughts had gone astray. It was when he realized how… attached it came off sounding, that he began to change parts of the letter. It took him quite some time to try and adjust his writing, before he finally decided to redo the entire thing.

_Dear Princess Zelda,_

_I can't believe it's already been several weeks. It does not feel like time has actually moved that fast, because the days drag by. I've been training a lot with Dodongo and the clan's chieftains. The training is very strict, but I think this will be good for me. And it also helps keep my mind off of other things._

_I learned how to breathe fire today in my human form. They taught me how to maintain the fire for as long as I can, and had me try to melt a stone spire, which is supposed to be resistant to lava. I really think I can get the hang of this. I'm starting to feel more confident in my abilities._

_Thank you for sending the books, but I think Amusei and the rest of the clan got to the food first. Somehow I do not feel right in not sending you anything in return. I want to send you things too. I'm not sure what you would like, because what does one give to a princess, if she has everything? Do you have everything? What do you not have?_

_Your wish is my command, Princess._

_\- Volga_

He had not heard from Zelda for a long time since that last letter of his, and worried if he had said something that unsettled her. Volga figured that the likely scenario was that she had been very busy, and the other factors she had to deal with when it came to sending and receiving letters.

Months had passed, and Volga pushed himself further with his training. The courier had caught him by surprise one day when he had stumbled upon Volga in his dragon form. Volga quickly transformed back, so that he could use his hands, not his claws, to retrieve and read the letter the terrified human handed to him.

_Dear Volga,_

_I apologize for the delay. There's been much going on lately. I tried sneaking out of the castle the other day, and father actually caught me this time, not Impa. He was so infuriated, that it was as if he had gone through every possible option to make me as miserable as possible._

_Did you know that I haven't succeeded in trying to sneak out of the castle since that last time I hid and travelled in that crate? I haven't been able to even visit the town since the last time we were there together. I'm starting to forget what some of the streets looked like._

_I admire you for taking initiative in your training. I wish I had your ambition. I think I still can, it's just been especially discouraging lately. You've been a source of motivation for me, you know? Whenever I see you write about your training, it makes me realize that I'm not alone in this. Even though we have different circumstances, it's reassuring to know that you've been pleased with your efforts._

_You asked me on that last letter if I had everything, and what I didn't have. That's something very difficult to answer. I have almost everything that rupees can buy. Yet that will not make me appreciate a gift any less. What I actually want, however, is not something that can necessarily be bought._

_What I wish more than anything right now is to go outside and travel throughout Hyrule Field. I want to be able to actually BE in my kingdom, rather than through the hazy view from my castle. I want to grasp the grass, and soak my feet in the water. I want to touch the sand, and see if it's really as hot as they say it is. I want to see all the plant and floral life beyond what I've seen in my garden, and learn its new scents._

_I suppose that with my upcoming future, I would have to meet a decent prince. Decent, because perfect does not exist, and my own desires of the ideal man would likely be too unrealistic. But I will amuse you, regardless._

_I wish for a man who is kind and passionate, who is truly a gentleman, and not just because he was brought up to be that way. A man who is willing to take me to other places, and not keep me confined to the castle. A man who can appreciate my joy for books and music. A man who can love me with my imperfections, and that I can love him with his own flaws._

_I know. This is something from a fairy tale, not real life. I will not hold such high expectations from a prince._

_With all my rambles aside, there is something I'm happy with, and it's hearing back from you to see how you're doing. You don't have to give me anything Volga. You've given me your friendship, and that's more than I could hope to have._

_\- Zelda_

Since then, their letters had become more thoughtful, and taken longer to write throughout the course of the next years. At times it seemed as if they would never hear from each other again, but the letters still came, and still went.

* * *

For the third time that day, the windows flew open. A rush of wind intruded inside, scattering the pages of open books and ancient texts, sweeping them across the spacious room. The rain that was accompanied wasn't any less invasive; the water droplets falling in a horizontal pattern due to the high winds, sharp, biting almost - and incessantly soaking the marble floor.

A pair of violet eyes peered from behind a crystal ball, enlarged from the magnified glass. She had not bothered with the windows this time. They would just leave themselves open again. Besides, the harsh wind and chilled rain felt refreshing from Hyrule's warm and cheery forecast within the past month.

The constant sunlight had darkened her skin slightly, _her_ of all people, when she spent most of her time indoors! Not to mention, the brightness was starting to pull her further away from the windows. It was becoming more of a nuisance to her in general; rather than as a natural means to help her see, her retinas felt as if they were burned whenever her eyes were exposed to light.

_**Perhaps you are becoming less and less of the Guardian of Time…** _

She turned around abruptly at the sound of the voice, almost expecting someone to be there, which was an utterly preposterous notion, considering no living soul had ever stepped foot in her domain. Still, all she could see were her multiple arch ways before her, silent and idle, as she had always known them to be. From behind the glass doors, a crescent moon could be spotted in the darkening sky. She had not known the night had come so soon, nor how welcoming the darkness was.

_**So I am not the only one who appreciates the depths of the shadows, I see…** _

Yes, it was most certainly _that_ voice she had heard. The one she had been hearing for the past several years, when all it started out as were mere whispers. It was a menacing voice, more demonic than human. She once feared this voice, had once considered that she might have been losing her very sanity - and now it was a voice she had grown accustomed to. Like hearing the voice of a companion who had been living under the same household.

_**I'm a companion now? How… uncharacteristically touching of you…** _

"Must you read my every thought?" asked the sorceress irritably, stepping away from the small, circular table that held the crystal ball she had been gazing at.

The voice had ignored her question.

_**You still haven't been able to see any more visions in that artifact of yours, have you?** _

"You already know the answer to that," she said coldly.

_**Yes, yes, the visions are all blurred**_ , the voice sounded scolding, as if it was disappointed by her lack of progress. _**But that can't be all that's interfering with your powers.**_

"My powers," she repeated, ignoring her usual annoyance with the fact that she was essentially talking out loud to herself. "What's it to you, anyway?"

**_My dear, Guardian of Time_** , the voice cooed. _**I have been in your company for some time now. My influence has affected your powers, whether you realize it or not. You should learn from them. Otherwise, perhaps all hope is lost for you in regards to your Hero, that you are so tied to…**_

The witch stiffened at this statement. "What is that supposed to mean?"

_**Why not take a look and see?** _

Giving in to her curiosity when it came to anything regarding Link, she approached the table once more, and blinked back at the crystal ball. For a moment nothing happened, merely the same white, cloudy haze that she had grown familiar to seeing.

Yet as she stared, the white turned to various colors, and began to take indistinct shapes. No, there was definitely a shape, and it was of a young man. A bit more slender than that of an average man, but still a man just the same. Gold, white, yellow, and light brown tones swirled to create and shade his hair, and of course the witch had known those colors all too well… she had painted that hair countless times. The familiar green tunic soon came to view, along with a blue scarf that she had seen from a vision long ago, that had inspired her to create more paintings of him. She had always been fond of those particular paintings, but seeing him now within the crystal ball, and then… she noticed his location. Her home.

"He's in here!" she gasped out loud. "I mean… he's going to come here! When? Why?!"

Oblivious to her spontaneous glee, the voice said nothing, as the crystal ball continued to transition. Another shape began to form next to Link, soft shades of pink, blue, gold, and white. The smile faded from the witch's lips. That unmistakable blonde hair, well, blonde as she had seen it through most eras - luscious and vibrant. Her beautiful face, though it did not seem to hold that trace of helplessness that she had expected to see from the princess. There was an elegant sword gripped in her hand as she moved, dressed in a battle raiment that was more revealing, than she had ever seen of her, delicate curves emphasizing her feminine figure.

If envy and jealousy could burn, she would have set fire to every intricate thread on that raiment. Her thoughts only grew more disturbing as she watched Princess Zelda and Link share a passionate exchange in glances. They appeared to be leaning closer, unless it was her imagination. Whatever it was they were about to do, she would never know. She did not _want_ to know. Her animosity for the princess blinded her of all logic, of justifying everything she had witnessed era after era - that the blood of the goddess was bound to the Spirit of the Hero.

"I can't see anymore of this," she said, livid, shoving the crystal ball away from the table with such force, that it rolled forth, into the ground, and the glass cracked. It was a wonder the entire ball didn't shatter, let alone that it still functioned at all. She turned away from it, resisting the temptation to dig her heel into the sphere, to start going into a frenzy of blind rage and break everything within reach.

_**You see**_ , said the voice calmly, completely unaffected by what the witch had seen. _**He chooses her. Not you.**_

In that instant, the Guardian of Time hated that voice too, and not just the princess. She wanted to do nothing more than blast the empty air with every spell she knew, until she could miraculously find the target of this mysterious voice, who seemed to be mocking her for her outburst. For her weakness.

_**I am not mocking you**_ , he said, and she grit her teeth at the reoccurring penetration of her mind. _**In fact, I want to help you.**_

"Pfft, what could you do to help me? You're a voice! You don't even have a physical form!" she exclaimed.

_**Just say the words. Let me enter**_ , said the voice, in such a commanding manner, that she could not help the shiver that ran down her spine.

"E-enter?" she whispered, looking around wildly, a manic expression on her face. She was almost expecting this being to barge right through her window.

**_Do not be afraid_** , he said, in a surprisingly reassuring tone. _**You have a great power residing within you, Guardian of Time. I can show you things you never thought you could do. Use your gifts to your advantage, not as a means of watching to see what happens. Take control of your future. I can help you… obtain your Hero. I can help you with so much more…**_

The witch bit her lip, and shook her head. "I don't… believe you…"

**_Look around you_** , he continued firmly. _**Is this what you want to do for the rest of your life? Play puppet to the goddesses and sit here, by yourself, and watch over this accursed relic for all eternity? Why watch over the relic, when you could have it for yourself, and choose the life you want to have? If the goddesses trusted you with such a task to watch over the relic, then surely they would have trusted it to be in your hands, if it came to it. You and I both know the war is about to begin. Use the relic to help with the war, and have the pleasure of a reward on the side. Why settle for nothing, when you can have everything?**_

The sorceress fell silent. Truthfully, this was the longest she had ever heard him speak, and while she still had her own doubts, she found that the more she reflected on what he said, the more she realized that he was right. Why _should_ she sit around for the rest of her life, watching over the Triforce in loneliness and misery? Why _shouldn't_ she be able to experience the normal, every-day activities that everyone else did? Why _shouldn't_ she be able to have Link?

If the goddesses had truly entrusted her with such a burden then yes, they must have accepted that she would be a perfectly viable candidate to actually be able to use the Triforce. And even if she wasn't good enough, that would be the fault of the goddesses, not her own. They had been known to make mistakes before.

Yes. She _wanted this_. The more she thought about what she could do with the powers of the complete Triforce, the more she found herself lusting for more. But she only had one piece… the Triforce of Power. She would need the other two pieces.

The witch did not verbally have to give the voice permission anymore, for she had already made that decision in her mind. All she could do was watch in morbid fascination, as the very particles from the shadows in the room coursed over the ground and in the air like a swarm of black beetles. The miasma surrounded her, materializing into the silhouette of what appeared to be a colossal boar. Towering over her, he suddenly plunged through without warning, dissolving into her body.

She could not really describe the sensation. Her chest felt heavy, suffocating almost, as if she had too many souls occupying her body, and she no longer knew which one was hers.

_**I'll make this easier for you**_ , he said darkly, his voice louder and more clearer than ever, embedded in her very mind. _**I will separate you into two. Your weaker side will be cast away, as a separate being, into the depths of this forest, far away from here. And your stronger side, will be safe with me. Together, we will share your body.**_

Before she could properly let the absurdity of this sentence sink in, she felt her body give an unexpected convulsion. This experience was somehow more disconcerting than letting in a soul inside her body. She could feel a part of her leave her, but once it did, her apprehension was gone. She felt relieved. Who was this soul she was sharing with? She felt like she could do _anything_ , be anything she wanted. No more morals, no more concerns, nothing. She was free.

_**From now on**_ , the voice ushered to her, like a master would to a servant. _**Your title of Guardian of Time will be put behind you. You shall now be known as Cia. Take a moment to revel in your newfound powers.**_

And Cia did indeed.

Her eyes, a piercing amethyst, gazed down at her hands. She flexed her long fingers, like a newborn child studying itself for the first time. To her surprise, a flash of purple erupted from her hand, before whizzing toward one of her archways. The sheer power of this magic caused the archway to blast apart, setting off the other archways to crumble before her.

"Did I do that?" she half-giggled, half-squealed, positively delighted with what she had accomplished, even though she was practically destroying her home. "I want to test that on something else. On someone."

_**Patience, my pet**_ , the voice said, a certain satisfaction regurgitated in his tone. _**There is much I have to teach you before you become directly involved with our upcoming plan. You will learn other variations of that same magic, and more. You will learn how to summon minions, and even your own… personalized version of such. You will learn how to control the mind of another to do your bidding and -**_

"I will learn how to control their _mind?_ " she said eagerly. "To anyone?"

_**Yes and no**_ , the voice tried to explain. _**It's a bit more complicated than that. We will have to start on some minor targets first, some generic minions that will be available to us once you open the Gate of Souls. But before we do any of this, I want you to summon a minion of your own. These minions, unlike a real one, will disappear after some time. I will teach you to try and maintain a minion for as long as you can. Our first plan of attack will be an indirect approach. Basically, your minion will be doing the work.**_

Cia nodded, taking note of her staff that had been discarded next to the table. She leaned over to pick it up, feeling her powers infuse a different element into the weapon. It was then that she noticed that she was still in her old clothes. She would get rid of this saintly outfit. Cia would fashion herself in something she'd feel attractive in, perhaps even a little provocative. For the first time, she felt sexy. She felt stunning. She felt _alive._

"My own personalized minion, hm?" she drawled, glancing at one of her prized paintings. "Oh yes, I have just the one in mind."

* * *

The cold, silken sheets rustled as the young woman tossed and turned in her sleep. Slender fingers clenched at the covers that somehow could not provide her the warmth she subconsciously sought. Finally, Princess Zelda woke with a start, her chest rising and falling quickly due to her irregular breathing. She slowly sat up, her pale face glowing in the semi-darkness of her room.

Darkness was never something that frightened her as a child, but the seemingly jagged shadows of her bed room were making her somewhat uneasy. From the expensive furnishings to the endless amount of possessions her father shamelessly spoiled her with… the exaggerated size of her room never felt more empty. Empty and cramped, like her surroundings were trying to close in on her.

Perhaps this was due to her restless nightmare. Or the chill that seeped through her walls.

Zelda never liked the cold. It was harsh, and dug into her skin like sharp knives, no matter how many exotic coats her tailors ushered her to wear, and the poor creatures that had to be slain to produce thick furs that only nobles could afford. She disliked it all.

The strap on her lavender gown slid slightly down her right arm, exposing her bare shoulder. Zelda shivered, padding quietly across the lone room.

She pushed past the door, and continued forth through the extended part of her bed room. For her bed room was not so different than that of a small home; each section separated into her actual sleeping area, a study, a living room, and even a fair dining area if she so chose to eat and drink in private. All she wanted right now however, was heat.

Reaching her living room, relief flooded over her at the welcoming sight of her hearth. The flames cast a cozy glow into the shadows of the room, its light dancing along the velvety couches. Zelda approached the fire place, and stood in front of it, rubbing her hands along her arms as she basked in its warmth.

"Cold again, Princess? Should I go fetch you a hot drink? A thick blanket?"

Zelda gave a slight start and glanced over to see that her care taker was there, sitting in one of the couches, reviewing a parchment with the schedule of her soldiers.

"No thank you, Impa," she said quietly. "I like the warmth of the fire."

The blonde turned to face the fire again, though she could feel Impa's red eyes surveying her behind her back.

"You had another nightmare again, didn't you?"

Zelda gave a reluctant nod. "It was nothing. Just a bad dream."

Impa shifted away from the couch, and approached her, before suddenly going quite still. Zelda knew why; there, on top of Zelda's bare hand, was a faint glow emitting from the birth mark her mother had left her. It was in the shape of a triangle, on the far left of a very faded outline of a Triforce. Zelda instinctively moved her hand away from view, but it was already too late.

"This was no ordinary circumstance. Tell me of your dream."

At first, Zelda considered not saying anything, of brushing it off and not bringing more concern to Impa and her father than they had to deal with already. However, they both had practically implanted into her head about the significance of the mark on her hand. It would not be wise to say nothing, especially if this indeed, have any relevance with what she had just experienced.

"There were many people," Zelda began. "I did not know who they were. They were all masked. Dancing, drinking, and more. And then suddenly, some of them began to…" she hesitated. "Die. I… I could not see how, but I knew they were murdered. The victims had something in common though.”

_"Yes?"_ Impa demanded, almost impatiently.

"Impa…"

"Just be out with it, Zelda."

"They were… all blondes. And they were all women."

Impa stared at her for a long time, and Zelda hoped that Impa would try and crack one of her dry jokes, to say something along the lines of her probably being affected by some horror or mystery novel she had read - but she did nothing of the sort. When Impa spoke, it came out as a harsh whisper.

"The Masquerade Festival."

At her words, Zelda knew what Impa was referring to. The Masquerade Festival was a traditional holiday in Hyrule that was celebrated in the night of a lunar eclipse, to commemorate the era in which the Spirit of the Hero used time to repeatedly course through a three-day cycle to save his world from an unnatural destruction. His use of the various masks that he was given during his conquest was what had inspired the event to be a masquerade… and likely an excuse for some alcoholic debauchery on the side.

The event was celebrated in Hyrule Castle's very ball room, bringing forth practically all the nobles, and royally invited guests. Due to Hyrule's expansive population, there was only a limited amount of middle and low class invited, and if they were, it was often for a modest wage to assist with serving the guests.

"The solution is simple," said Impa decisively. "We either cancel the event, or you hide. The first option would be ideal, however, it is not without complications with the public. "

Zelda frowned, and shook her head. "Impa, if you're implying that what I saw in my dreams might actually happen, then the last thing I would want to do is hide. If I'm truly the target, I'd rather get it over with quickly, rather than having other women needlessly sacrificed for my sake. And if we were to cancel the event, we may never find out who the culprit is, or if there is more than one."

Impa's eyes widened. "What, so you're saying you’re going to use yourself as bait? Princess, do you have _any_ idea how important your life is to this kingdom? Have you forgotten what we spent all of these years trying to _do?!"_

"We have spent all these years trying to turn me into a warrior," Zelda countered. "Do you really think I would forget the freedom and what remained of my childhood - gone, so that I could focus on what you and father set out for me? What use has my training been, if I'm not out there, protecting our people? I would not deserve the title of Princess, let alone Queen, otherwise. Besides, you yourself have said that I'm a capable warrior."

The Sheikah made a frustrated grunt. "Damn it, Princess," she swore, though she would not have dared doing so in front of anyone else. She was more like an adopted mother or sister to her when she spoke like this, rather than merely her guard.

"You _are_ capable. You are more than capable. But we do not know yet what we are up against. We do not even know if this is really going to happen, and quite frankly, I can say I've had enough of visions and premonitions for one life time. However, being that this dream coincides with your mark, I cannot simply ignore it. I admire your willpower, but it does not make me any more agreeable with your decision."

Zelda said nothing, and Impa realized that she would not change her mind.

Impa sighed. "I suppose I will have to take drastic measures to increase the security in this event. You do realize your father will likely lose any hair left on his head when he hears of this?"

The princess gave a meek chuckle, but the smile vanished quickly. "He'll be fine, Impa," she reassured her. "And I'll be fine too."

There was a pause, and then Impa spoke. "Are you going to write to him of this?"

Zelda turned her attention away from the fire, and rested her eyes back on Impa. She knew exactly what _him_ Impa was speaking of. The boy she had exchanged letters with over the years - well who was most certainly not a boy any longer. Her closest friend, who was also ironically, far away from her. The only one who could bring a genuine smile out of her lips, whenever she received his letters.

"No," said Zelda thoughtfully. "There's enough burden as it is right now."

* * *

"Left!"

"Top!"

"Right!"

Dodongo's voice bellowed across the Eldin caves as he instructed the young dragon, the adolescent that was both his master and apprentice. To most, this complexity of ranks would not have been the generic, established hierarchy. Yet in a world where the great beast was the closest Volga had to a father, and the reptilian clan being closest to a family, Volga supposed there were stranger things.

A stream of fire shot from his mouth, striking each of the designated targets with a precision and range that, despite the larger hit box compared to that of an arrow, would have made an archer proud. The white markings on the rocks that had been for his practice turned black, the paint peeling from the stone.

"Very good, very good," Dodongo praised. "Now, place the stone spire from your back on the ground."

Volga raised two, toned arms and lifted the massive boulder that had been propped on his bare back for the past half hour. This was a routine obstacle Dodongo had provided for him to continuously develop whatever form he was in. As a boy, this all started as a constant frustration that heavily dragged him down after mere minutes - but now, after years of hard-work and rigorous self-discipline, his body grew stronger, possessing the muscles and the strength to overcome what was now a menial task.

"You've given me a pebble to work with this time, not a boulder, Master," Volga retorted, setting the stone spire in front of him. "Remind me why you are so keen on this particular type of… stone spire anyway."

Dodongo snorted, a puff of smoke flaring from his nostrils. "I already told you. These stone spires have a different material compared to the other rocks. They will not turn molten from the lava, therefore they will make for a viable defense barrier should the Eldin Caves ever be invaded." He gave another gurgled snort. "Perhaps I should assign you five stone spires next time, to nurture that pride of yours."

Ah yes, the matter of pride. Pride was something of a quality among the reptilian clan, a sign of leadership. Volga had been influenced of course, but not for the sole purpose of earning respect among their ranks. To him, it was a way of life. Gone were the days of cowering under the scrutiny of humans, of lacking self-esteem. Zelda had given him motivation, while Dodongo and the clan provided him the discipline that brought him to what he was now. Now he was someone who could walk with his head held high, rather than fixated on the ground.

That wasn't to say that his pride couldn't get out of hand at times.

"It was not my intention to sound arrogant," he defended. "You know I'm merely eager to prove myself."

The golden beast nodded knowingly. "I understand you have a desire to prove yourself, Volga. You train on a daily basis, and often on your own volition. And you dedicate yourself to read and study those books of yours… immersing yourself with human influence - just as equally. Perhaps the clan and I… are not only ones you are trying to prove something to, hm?"

Volga gazed at the lava-ridden environment before him, the place he had grown to call home. As a dragon with the ability to breathe and adapt to fire, this volcanic landmark was the ideal location for him to reside in. The crags were large enough for him to feel that he had sufficient space to stretch out his wings, rather than feel cramped in the more typical layout of a cave. There was food to hunt, though he never really developed a taste for anything here in particular - he most certainly could survive on it, if he so wished to.

This human influence Dodongo spoke of might never have been an influence at all if it were not for her. Volga might have been obliviously content dwelling in this place as a dragon, perhaps never bothering with his human form again. He might have been uneducated, angry, a mindless beast, as stories so easily defined of his kind. And he certainly wouldn't have felt this need to understand more of humankind, when nearly every factor of his past should have indicated otherwise.

"I live in two worlds, Master," said Volga mildly. "It does not bother me. But you know full well that my place is here."

Yet there was a hollowness inside him that his dragon life could not fulfill, and that only his 'human' influence could. Whenever he read a book, or picked up a quill, or even did something as trivial as taking an occasional visit to the marketplace to buy some supplies - it brought him a strange, peace of mind. It wasn't just a reminder that a part of him was still human… it was a reminder of the connection he still had with Zelda.

"Excuse me, you're the Dragon Knight, yes?"

Volga blinked at the voice that had come from seemingly nowhere. He and Dodongo turned to stare at the hooded, lithe figure that had appeared from behind a nearby stone spire. Humans never ventured this far into the Eldin Caves, much less in the face of King Dodongo and a dragon. Regardless of the fact that Volga wasn't in his dragon form at the moment, even the courier would have been more apprehensive.

"Yes," Volga replied gruffly. "What do you inquire of me, upon our territory?"

The stranger handed him a folded parchment. "I have been given permission to tell you that I'm an agent of the Royal Family. This is a note from General Impa."

Suspicious, Volga unfolded the note, and began to read. Impa had never written to him before.

_Dragon Knight,_

_I have a delicate matter that I wish to address to you. The princess will likely not say anything, so as to not worry you, but due to the urgency of this situation, I need to maximize all my options. Bear with me, because this will sound completely unorthodox. But I'm going to be very blunt._

_There may be an assassination attempt forthcoming in Hyrule Castle, likely in the ball room. The possible victims are blonde women. I know you have little to no sympathy for humans, but I thought you should know, since Zelda will likely be the concluding target._

_I advised her that we should cancel the event, or that she should hide, but she refused both options. Her, being the stubborn woman that she is, plans to confront this assassin, and that's only assuming there isn't more. While I have faith in her abilities as a warrior, I do not have confidence as to what we'll be up against._

_So I'm humbly asking if you could cooperate with me to prevent the danger that may befall this Masquerade Festival. And being that everyone will be masked, it brings me further uneasiness as to which one could be the killer._

_I can understand if you don't want to help, and I won't hold it against you. Just try and understand that, for me to be writing this to you, I'm very concerned about the possible victims, and of course, of Zelda's life._

_If you do wish to attend, all the details of the date, time, and location of the event are written below. There should be enough time to give you a few days to prepare by the time this letter reaches you. Let my agent know, for I have provided rupees for when you go shopping for a costume. There should be more than enough to buy what you wish._

_\- General Impa_

Volga finished the letter, processing what he had just read. His expression changed from suspicion to confusion, and now to concern. For once, he agreed with Impa in that the event should have been cancelled. However, he could understand Zelda's persistence in wanting to uncover the identity of her killer. Because if there was really someone out there who wanted Zelda killed, a cancelled event would not have sufficed, and the killer would merely find another means to reach her.

The fact that Zelda did not inform Volga of this did not surprise him, but now that he knew, he could not help but wonder just how much Zelda had gone through that she never brought up. He certainly went through his own struggles, some of which that even he refused to acknowledge. There were no words to describe the thought of seeing Zelda again, something he had longed for so long, that not even all the letters they exchanged could compare.

But this was more than a reunion he would be facing. It was Zelda's life. Impa would not have asked him for his help if she did not feel truly in need of him.

"I will be attending," he told the agent. But when the agent reached for the pouch of rupees to give him, Volga shook his head. "No. I'm a man who works for my own rupees."


	10. Masquerade

When Volga had first moved into the Eldin Caves, he had been given the option to choose what area, or which exact cave, he wanted to make his home. As long as it was within the Eldin border, he could live almost anywhere he pleased. The Eldin border was a territorial line that divided the Lizalfos and Dinolfos from the Goron tribe, roughly half of the land area for each of them. The Goron area was closer to Hyrule Field, so that they would be the first creatures a human would encounter when stepping into the Eldin Caves.

For the most part, the Lizalfos and Gorons were able to co-exist in peace, among their given lands. The couple of times they'd venture into each other's territory was for trading, but the Gorons generally preferred to trade with the humans dwelling in villages further away. Furthermore, there wasn't as much to benefit from trading with each other due to them having mostly the same resources.

The only noticeable difference in their landmarks was that the Lizalfos had more mining caves, particularly the Crystal Caves, containing precious crystals and ore that interested the humans and Gorons. For the Gorons, the ores were like sweets for the rock-loving tribe, extending a variety of food. For the humans, it was the riches. Had these caves been easily accessible to either one, the ores might have been depleted by now.

In this manner, the reptilians were better suited to preserve and guard the Crystal Caves. Humans and Gorons would not generally dare step between a dragon and its treasures.

While the Lizalfos gained more of the ore, the Gorons had more hot springs. Volga used the hot springs more than the Lizalfos, so among the few they had in their area, he had chosen his home near a hot spring. In fact, his home had been built _around_ a hot spring.

His cave featured various areas separated by stone walls and doors - built of his own accord - that served as rooms. The hot spring itself had a room of its own, similarly to a bathing room for humans. It brought a sense of privacy that Volga had grown to appreciate, especially when he sought some time alone from his loud and obnoxious family.

This was where Volga was now, taking a morning bath before preparing for his long trip to Hyrule Castle. The hot water occasionally bubbled, draining and replenishing fresh water into the spring.

But he had been in there for awhile now, lost in thought, for the tips of his fingers began to wrinkle. Volga finally stood up from the spring, and stepped out out of the water. Wrapping his towel around his waist, he paused in front of a large, rectangular fragment of glass that was leaning up against the slab wall. Through it, he could see his reflection.

A tall, young man stood before him. Water dripped from his hair, which was a darker shade of blond from being wet, the ends seemingly longer as they barely brushed below his neck. His warm skin glistened from the water droplets when he moved, sturdy arms and torso emphasized by the demanding physical exertion throughout his training over the years.

He did not consider that he might have been regarded as somewhat appealing. Such a notion was marred by the black markings surrounding his eyes, an imperfection he had almost forgotten was there.

Volga had grown to care little of the markings, and even less as to what humans thought about them. Living with the Lizalfos had taught him to turn his fear of the markings into a warrior's respect. Dodongo would always tell him to be proud, whether he wore a helmet or not. Besides, Zelda never…

Emerald eyes stared back at him, mirroring the eagerness and nervousness he had been feeling.

He brought a hand to his chin, scrutinizing the blond stubble there, which would no doubt, grow longer soon. Volga did not know why he felt so self-conscious all the sudden, when he'd barely give a second thought as to how he looked.

Yet at this very moment, his stomach twisted in a knot, as he tried to imagine what Zelda would think of him now. He wondered if she too, would have gone through something similar, if she had known that she would be seeing him. This was… normal for friends to feel like this, right? They hadn't seen each other in so long, after all.

After he dried himself and dressed, he headed over to his bed room, his eyes drawn to the object that never ceased to catch his eye. Sitting on top of his stone desk, was the cherished brooch Zelda had given him. Volga picked it up, his fingers tracing along the golden wings that held the precious, blue stone. In his more… wistful and guarded thoughts, he imagined Zelda as the jewel, and him, the wings that would hold her. Like the stem that would support a flower, two different pieces as one.

 _And that_ , he told himself sternly. _Is another reason I'm glad that I revise my letters as much as I do…_

There were two kinds of letters Volga had familiarized with over the years; the complete and the incomplete. Complete was the finalized draft he would write, after having modified it, likely more than once. He would never send it until he was confident with the results. Such letters would be the ones he would send her, safe within the barrier between them. No one would have believed in their friendship, thus it made him all the more protective of it.

These letters were written with the diligence of a magician, to create the illusion that boasted his strengths, and concealed his weaknesses. If any implication of a weakness was brought up in his writing, they were not supposed to be relevant of her. He would not make her feel responsible for how much she had affected him.

For that was what the incomplete letter was for. These letters ended up not being sent, never revealed to anyone but to himself. The words were not always concrete, often fragments of confounding thoughts and emotions regarding the princess. Of the blind happiness he'd find in his dreams of her… until he'd wake up and be left with an aching emptiness.

They were incomplete, because that's how he felt in her absence.

* * *

"Finally, you're back."

Volga immediately clasped his fingers around the brooch in his hand. He had not expected to get caught, seeing that he was in his cave's quarters, and his clan _usually_ respected his privacy. With a displeased grumble, he looked up at the pair of young Dinolfos and Lizalfos that had entered. Of course it would be them.

"Amusei and Jules," said Volga irritably. "What did I say about barging into my home without asking me?"

Jules rolled her eyes, sticking her forked tongue at him. "Oh, calm your fumesss a bit, Volga. We're just excited to see you again. What took you ssso long in the market place?"

"Did you get your cossstume yet?" Amusei asked eagerly. "What did you buy?"

Volga raised an eyebrow. "Yes, I did. And why are you two so interested in all of this?"

"Can we see?"

"No."

"Oh come on, Master Volga," Amusei prompted. "I promissse I won't steal another fried Cucco leg from your plate again."

Jules suddenly gasped as she caught sight of something from his bag, nosily approaching his purchases. "Is this what I think it is?" she asked, making a noise that sounded distinctly like a squeal.

"What isss it?" Amusei asked curiously, not seeing or understanding what she had spotted, before Volga snatched the bag and placed it out of sight. Not that it mattered anymore. If Jules knew, then everyone knew.

Volga pointed a finger at them, like an older brother reprimanding his siblings. "Do not even breathe a word of this," he warned. "Otherwise I'm not going to hear the end of this for ages."

"But, Volga," she said, beaming. "I think it's sssweet."

"What isss?" said Amusei impatiently. "Jules, you know I don’t get all thisss human stuff like you do.”

"He's going to dress as a prince!"

"Keeeh?" said Amusei, confused. "I don't understand."

The female Lizalfos peered at Volga closely. "You're so sssly, Volga, choosing a costume like thisss. And you've been doing all that reading and research over the yearsss on being a gentleman, on studying royal culture, and more. You're sssecretly hoping the princess will find you irresistible, aren't you?"

Mortified, Volga turned away, but used this as an excuse to move around the books that had been lying on his bed, back to the shelf in his room. None of his clan members could read, and even when he tried to teach them, they spared little attention in learning what they called ‘human nonsense'. Jules on the other hand, was the only reptilian who showed any remote interest in human culture, and was more adept at picking up on hints than anyone else.

"You're nervousss," she noted. "It's because of the princess, isn't it? You rarely get like thisss about anything else."

"Why would you be making such assumptions?" Volga asked casually, his eyes betraying his tone.

Two pointy teeth stuck out as Jules gave a toothy grin. "Master Volga it'sss really not that hard to tell. It's the way your eyesss light up whenever you receive a letter from the princess. It's the color in your face when her name is brought up, or when you're talking about her. It's how… fondly you store away her lettersss and gifts when you think no one is looking -"

_They know…_

Of course they did. The clan would tease him regarding his admiration for the princess from time to time, particularly these two, but not quite as… in-depth as this.

"You don't have to make me sound so obsessive," Volga mumbled, running a hand through the back of his hair. "I didn't realize I was being so _closely watched_."

Amusei snorted. "But Master Volga _isss_ obsessive…"

Jules cackled loudly "Not even watched, just obvious observationsss. I mean, if even Amusei can notice this…"

"Hey!" Amusei snapped.

"Zelda's my friend," Volga clarified coolly. "I'm sure it's perfectly normal to be a little anxious regarding a friend you haven't seen in years."

Jules gave a dramatic sigh. "Volga, pleassse," she began. "You do realize that friendship between man and woman can't lassst? And I haven't even begun on dragonsss and princesses."

"That's ridiculous," Volga scoffed. "Why would you say that?"

"Because," she said, as if it were the most obvious concept in the world. "Once the princess fallsss in love, likely with a prince, then her life will change. Especially if they are to marry, the prince would not want his woman writing lettersss to another man, and a dragon at that. She might still write to you from time to time, but do not be surprised if the letters one day ssstop coming."

At this, a cold, unexpected pang plunged into his chest. It was a horrifying sensation, like someone had reached into his very lungs, and was squeezing the oxygen out of him. It hurt to breathe. The fear lingered in his eyes much longer than he could prevent to hide.

The green reptilian’s expression turned serious. "I really think that for your sssake, you're better off searching for a potential mate, and soon. Snag ssssome random human girl at the festival who won't flee at the sight of your face. I'd suggest a female dragon instead, but we don't exactly have optionsss, do we?"

"No," Volga snarled, with such pained vehemence in his voice, that he startled them. He tightened his fingers around the brooch, as if it gave him some delusional proof that he was already taken. He was not interested in meeting anyone. He had maintained contact with her through their letters. She wouldn't just disappear from his life, would she? She would still write. Of course she would. Everything Jules was saying was nonsense. It had to be.

"I'll be going now," he said suddenly, grabbing his bag. "I have an assassin to hunt, not a _random mate to snag."_

When Volga had left, Amusei turned to Jules. "He didn't have to sssound so grouchy. If anything, I think he should have appreciated your honesty. Princesses do not fall in love with dragonsss, after all."

"Perhaps not," said Jules guiltily. "But apparently, dragonsss fall in love with princesses."

* * *

Volga had taken a carriage he had rented from the Gorons. He was not sure why really, when it would have been quicker to simply fly over to the castle. Though if he did, not only would he cause a commotion, but he would arrive there quite early. Perhaps a part of him wanted nothing to do with his dragon form tonight. Or perhaps he wanted more time to mentally prepare himself for what he was about to face.

He watched as the volcanic terrain transitioned into Hyrule's lush fields, and he was reminded of Zelda's desire to experience the world before her eyes. And he wanted… he wanted so badly to grant her wish. He would find a way somehow, if not this time, then surely when he could find the opportunity. If circumstances allowed them… if Zelda trusted him.

Hyrule Castle Town came into view, the place where he had recently been to purchase his costume, and to take some dancing lessons. Yes, dancing lessons. That's why he had taken so long in the town, why he had not explained to Amusei and Jules. He would not attend an event like this, and be a complete clod when it came to dancing. Reading about it from books wasn't quite the same as actually performing the action itself. No. Volga made sure to prepare well.

Jules had said he wanted the princess to find him irresistible. Volga had not thought of it that way, but he certainly wanted to impress her. He wanted to be… everything she wanted. And tonight, in this guise of a prince, he would allow his imaginary mask to fall. Behind an actual mask now, ironically enough.

The streets however, felt so different from when he first visited them with Zelda - compared to when he started his life in the Eldin Caves. He had brought this up in an unsent letter to her… one of his incomplete letters. Because Zelda wasn't supposed to know how crowded the alleys were now, and how they never felt more empty without her. That the restaurant they ate at was shut down, and expanded into a furniture store. So many places changed, yet the memories of her lingered everywhere he looked.

 _Goddesses, help me,_ he thought, closing his eyes. _I need to get a hold of myself, before I become a speechless fool when I see her…_

Somehow, he had a feeling, that some aspect of this would be inevitable. That was fine, as long as he didn't forget how to speak. If he was going to keep pining for her, then he would do so with dignity.

The long journey finally brought him to an expensive neighborhood near the castle. Volga paid the Goron driver, and stepped out of the carriage.

He made his way into a high-class inn, and paid for a room for the night, gaining curious glances from the customers. The inn-keeper gave him a key to his room, and he quickly changed inside, leaving the bag with his spare changes of clothes on top of the bed. He highly doubted Impa would want him to spend the night at the castle anyway. When he stepped out of his room in his outfit, he heard gasps. If he hadn't caught enough attention before, he certainly was now.

Ignoring them, he left the inn, and went back outside. The castle was within walking distance. He could even see the glimmering lights from the windows outside, the decorations and banners of the event hanging from outside the walls. He could hear an orchestra playing from a distance, and he almost found himself searching for the sound of a harp.

"Good evening, Your Majesty," one of the helmed Hylian soldiers greeted him, giving him a salute. "May I ask what kingdom you have travelled from?"

Volga was not sure if he was serious or joking. Was his costume really that convincing? He would amuse himself a bit, at the very least. "I hail from a mountainous region. Where the lava flows as steady as the riches provided by exquisite gems and ores. Where armors and weapons are crafted by my own hands, and ah… convenient access to fire for the forging."

"That is quite impressive!" said the guard, amazed. "It is not often princes actually engage in the process of smithing. It is such hard and demanding labor. Not that I would doubt your physique, of course -"

"You witless numbskull," said one of the masked humans, who had apparently been in charge of verifying the identity of each one of the visitors that arrived. "He's obviously not from any kingdom… however compelling his costume may be." The figure motioned for Volga to follow, which he did, smirking the whole time.

The masked woman had been dressed in a long, silver gown, with what looked like embroidery of red triangles along her sleeves. Her mask was a matching silver headpiece that covered her entire face. A single red eye was designed on it, reminding him of the eye of the Beamo statues. He would not be surprised if she could fire a laser from it either.

"I take it you know what this mask is?" she asked him, apparently interested to see how much he knew.

Volga nodded. "It's the Mask of Truth," he replied, remembering the chapter he had read regarding this mask. "They say it allows you to see into people's hearts and minds."

"Very good," said the woman, sounding pleased. She tilted her mask above her, revealing Impa's face. The familiar red eyes stared back at him, her hair unbraided and down, something he had never seen before. Other than her hair and the more stressed lines along her forehead, Impa looked almost exactly as he had remembered seeing her. "Now," she continued. "If only this mask actually did have those powers. Please reveal your identity before I let you inside."

The blond knew exactly why she was doing this security check, and he obliged, watching her eyes widen with surprise. "By the -" she said, befuddled. "If not for the markings around your eyes, I swear I would not recognize you. You have _grown."_

"Yes, age has a tendency to do that," Volga stated, more entertained than sarcastic. He covered his face again, and looked around at the group of visitors arriving behind him.

Impa surveyed them for a moment, before turning her attention back to him. "I'm going to need to take away your weapon."

Volga instinctively reached for the spear sheathed at his waist. "My weapon? Impa, you haven't forgotten why you've invited me here, have you?"

"I have not," said Impa, placing her mask back on as she lowered her voice. "But if Zelda sees your weapon, that might give you away. She must not know you're here."

"Why?"

Impa gave him an accusing glare. "Because you would be a distraction to her. And I don't mean just during this event, but after. She will not be able to concentrate on anything else, and we need her now, more than ever, to be in utmost focus. You might just be the death of her."

"That's a bit extreme, don't you think?" said Volga quietly, before reluctantly handing Impa his spear. "You asked me to come here to track a possible assassin, but you take away my weapon. Not that I don't have a means of attacking _without_ my weapon, mind you. But I'm not the enemy here, Impa."

The white-haired woman shook her head. "Not _now_ you're not," she said in a cryptic voice, confusing him. "You should try to understand my mistrust, not just in you, but everyone." To Volga's bewilderment, she handed him a silver cutlass. "You can use a sword, I suspect?"

"Of course I can," he said, affronted that she would presume otherwise.

He could almost feel her eyes rolling behind her mask. "You're different, you know," she observed. "Not just how you look, but how you bring yourself. You seem more confident, though with a hint of arrogance. But you're unusually polite. This is unexpected, though not unwelcome. Thank you for coming here."

Impa had a strange way of showing gratitude, though Volga supposed that she must have had a pretty solid reason to be so mistrustful. Just what had been happening in this castle? What hadn't Zelda told him?

As Impa ushered him away, so that she could attend to the next visitor, Volga looked up at her again. "And what did Zelda dress as, so I know where to start looking?"

"Oh trust me, you'll know when you see her."

* * *

Impa had not told her father.

The king looked so much more at ease tonight, for a change. He too had dressed for the ball; wearing a steel blue undershirt with designs that looked like waves of the sea, and white slacks made of satin. The finishing touches was his maroon tailcoat to match the themes of Daphnes Nohansen.

"Do you think this mask is too frightening?" he asked her, inspecting the draconic helm in his hands that was supposed to resemble the head of the King of Red Lions.

Zelda placed a kiss on top of his semi-bald head. "Father, I've grown up from a little girl to be scared of paper masks of horror."

The king chuckled. "And you never were, dear. Do you remember that rag doll you carried around when you were five?"

"Hmm…"

"All the girls your age were playing with the most gorgeous, expensive dolls," the king continued. "But for some reason, you chose the ugly and tattered doll that no one cared about. The one with the torn seams and the missing button as an eye. You patched the doll up and everything, brushed her hair, and gave her the same luxurious outfit as the other dolls had. And when you showed her to the other noble girls…"

Zelda smiled faintly at the memory. "I gave them quite a fright. I remember how confused I was."

The king sighed with mingled joy, pride, and sadness. "It does not seem like that long ago when you were able to play with the other children. Look at you now, your birthday is coming up at the end of the week, and you're going to be considered an adult. I've kept you so sheltered. It's kind of painful to grasp that this Masquerade Festival will be the most social interaction you will experience, compared to the past couple of years combined."

"Father…" Zelda started, taken back by the regret in his tone.

"You are too kind to me," he said mournfully. "Just like your mother. But I don't think even she would have restrained you as much as I have. Go, my daughter. Go enjoy yourself, for a change. Maybe I can… maybe I can look into becoming a little more lenient with your freedom for your upcoming birthday."

She took the larger, wrinkled hand in hers, and gave him a reassuring squeeze. It was then and there that she decided that she could not tell him of the potential danger she would be in during this masquerade. And if her father could enjoy himself a little, then she wanted to give him peace of mind.

They stood behind the double, mahogany doors that would lead to the ball room. The door where no visitors could come through, and only for the Royal Family to use. Zelda found it humorous at the fact that she and her father, both who would no doubt make a grand entry as soon as they passed through those doors - would have the most unoriginal costumes compared to the rest. Her father may have been dressed as another character, but he was still representing a king.

While she…

* * *

The astounded murmurs travelled through the crowd like wildfire. Painted faces and colored masks turned in the direction of the seemingly disregarded balcony at the top of the stairs. Volga had been leaning against the railing of these very stairs, but when he looked up to see what had captured the crowd's attention with such beguiling interest - he was never more thankful for that railing than that moment, lest his knees would have failed him.

For there, at the top of the stairs, was no other than Princess Zelda.

And though Volga was quite certain he could hear people speaking a moment ago, he wasn't sure why he couldn't hear anything else right now. Everyone was talking - their mouths were moving, but no sound was coming out. Surely, time had frozen.

Golden bangs framed the sides of her face, the tips decorated with exotic jewels. The rest of her hair was much longer than he had last seen her, the ends held together by an elaborate braid.

Gems gleamed all around her, reminding him of the soft glow of the Crystal Caves - from her hair ornaments, to her jewelry, and to the decorations of her attire. A rosy quartz was embedded on the center of her tiara, matching the lighter pink shades of her dress.

Her dress alone captivated the envious and admiring attention from the crowd, accentuated with flowing silks and soft laces. The bodice hugged her hips, and shaped along the curves of her chest, an astute indication that this was no longer the body of a little girl, but of a young woman. She had caught sight of more than just his own eyes.

Volga was increasingly grateful for his mask right now.

"The princess dressed as _herself?"_

"Why is she not wearing a mask?"

The sounds were slowly starting to return to his ears. People were chatting avidly, as she calmly walked down the stairs. She passed by him, so close that he caught a glimpse of her face. He was paralyzed in place, even though she had not noticed him. Inside however, was a different story.

 _W… what is happening?_ He thought desperately. _My heart is stammering so much…_

As he struggled to pull his thoughts together, he began to glance around from hidden face to the next. Zelda was still in danger, and having him here ogling at her amongst the humans would not be of any help. While he could, theoretically, keep an eye on her from a distance, he considered that she would realize he was watching her, sooner or later. The last thing he wanted was to come off as a creep, so he would deal with the bundle of nerves in his stomach, and make himself presentable to her.

But how to approach? She stood out among the sea of masked faces, with nothing to cover her own. She almost looked like a mirage, so rare and out of place. Unobtainable.

The normal chattering and music continued in the background, just as it had been before Zelda had made her appearance. The fervent whispers behind her back, however, did not stop.

"Hmph, what use is beauty if she never shows herself to anyone? She's not even that pretty, just another simple face. Her dress and jewelry carry her," the faceless comments continued, of jealousy so blatant, that Volga felt an urge to shield the princess from these biting remarks, a fire raging inside him at their lies.

"I heard the most she's been outside has been her own courtyard. It's a wonder she's got any color at all on her skin. They say she spends all day studying and training.”

“Don’t care. Maybe I can get her to drink with me, and then we can go somewhere more private,” slurred a drunken man, who was rewarded with a smack to the face by the woman next to him. Volga thought it was well-deserved.

He watched as the princess interacted with various guests, how she held herself in such a strict, yet elegant posture. How she smiled to be polite, though not like the blissful childish smiles he had remembered. They seemed more strained now, sad even. How focused she appeared to be in making sure everyone was having a good time, and if they needed anything.

"Look, the princess is interacting with the peasant servers," hissed a woman from behind a mask of peacock feathers. She tapped the shoulder of the woman next to her. "What do you think she's doing, mingling with such inferiority?"

Volga felt a vein twitch. These humans were really starting to grate on his nerves. So callous, and quick to judge, as he had always known most of them to be. But he would control himself. He was better than that.

He stood behind a curtain from where Zelda had been conversing with someone. That 'someone' being a little girl that had apparently been hiding under a table.

"This isn't a place for children," something that sounded like a motherly scorn came from Zelda's voice. It was the first time he had heard her speak after all these years. How was this woman's voice so entrancing, even when she was scolding?

"I'm sorry, Princess Zelda," said the girl, embarrassed. The child looked so scrawny, that Volga found himself actually pitying the human. "I only came because Ma was offered to work here hauling the pots of food. Ma has problems with her back, so I came to help her."

Zelda's expression softened, and she handed the little girl something that had been on her hand… the mask the princess would have worn. It looked to be made of real silver, with glittering diamonds adorned at the corners. "Here, take my mask, and sell it tomorrow morning. You'll earn more rupees selling this than if your mother had been working for nobles all week. Go home, child. It's not safe to be here tonight."

The little girl's eyes widened. "Really? Oh, thank you, Princess! Ma will be so happy!"

"Shhh, don't tell anyone," said Zelda gently. "It's our little secret."

Volga's lips parted at this gesture. It wasn't that he was surprised, really, but it never ceased to amaze him that such acts were still prevalent in a world filled with so much greed and selfishness. And even he could not deny that he didn't exactly hold anyone else's best interest at heart. He could not give kindness to everyone, not like she could. He would rather give it all to one person instead.

Suddenly, he sensed something unusual in the air, something that no normal human sense would have been able to sniff. The scent was like ivy and alcohol mixed together, and it was so… strongly subtle, that he felt unhinged by its foreign presence. He glanced over at Zelda, to where she had grabbed a drink from one of the waiters that had served her.

His eyes widened, before he set himself into action.

* * *

Zelda had her own suspicions regarding the current circumstances, but she had no solid proof of anything as of yet. Every face was just as a likely suspect as the next. She had kept watch over every blonde head she seen, including the ones with wigs. They were all drinking, laughing, and completely oblivious that their lives might be in danger.

Was she becoming as paranoid as Impa and her father? What if her supposed premonition meant nothing? What if there was no assassin at all?

 _But I might have changed the outcome_ , she thought to herself. _By not wearing a mask, I might have prevented this assassin from wasting his or her time on the wrong target…_

This was all giving her a headache. She wanted to relax, to loosen herself a bit, perhaps take the bold step to ask someone for a dance when they were too terrified of doing it themselves. She almost wished she had worn a mask, but she did not regret her decision.

Zelda sighed, heading over to one of the long tables that were filled with expensive wine glasses. Not quite finding the drink she was looking for, she turned and was about to search for a different table when one of the waiters approached her, holding a tray in hand, serving drinks that had not been available on the table.

The waiter almost looked like a shadow, from the obscure, black outfit, to the samite boots - and even the skin appeared to be painted black. The mask was shaped like a beak at where the nose was, decorated with dark feathers surrounding the eyes and most of the face that reminded Zelda of a crow's feathers. The waiter held out the tray for her, offering her a drink.

"Thank you," she said, taking one of the wine glasses of red wine.

The waiter did not respond, and merely disappeared back into the crowd.

Bringing the wine glass to her lips, she was just about to take a sip, when a gloved hand from behind her suddenly wrung the glass away from her fingers, causing her drink to spill on the floor. Startled, she whirled around.

"Excuse me," she began, narrowing her eyes at him. "What do you think you're -"

"I would not drink that if I were you, Princess."

His voice was low and smooth, with a subtle hint of a growl in his tone that made her heart skip a beat too fast. Zelda raised her head to confront this man, this individual who had so rudely taken her drink away. The bridge of his nose and his mouth was all that she could see from his face. She could vaguely see his eyes, but not the color. From a distance it almost seemed as if his eyes were black voids.

This man had put some great effort into remaining hidden. She closed the distance between them, challenging him. And now he was silent, his mouth briefly agape, possibly at having her so close. He took a few steps back, though he did not seem to be aware that he was doing so. Zelda could have sworn she heard him breathing rather quickly for a moment.

Yet even in that stunned state, power seemed to exude from his very being. From his voice, to his tall frame, and distracting physique, something about him was…

It was then that Zelda noticed his actual outfit; from the top of his head, which was mostly covered from his black mask, she could see the blond ends curling slightly against his neck. A dark red cape was fastened on his back, matching with a buttoned uniform suited to a prince. A black cravat was tucked neatly from inside his jacket, giving him a royal charm that seemed strangely fitting for him.

"Look I…" Zelda's voice faltered slightly. "I don't care if you can crush walnuts with your abs. Don't think that just because you're dressed as a prince, that you can take my drink in such a way."

A smirk planted on his lips. "Crush walnuts with my abs? You flatter me."

There was no reason that smirk should have been so infuriatingly appealing, no reason why she suddenly felt so flustered before his charming demeanor. And then he spoke again, his tone more serious now. "I am sparing you from the mindless swarm of drunken men who are waiting hungrily for you to get even slightly tipsy."

Zelda opened her mouth a little at this. "You… you can't be serious?"

He looked around, and she noticed a flurry of masks quickly turn away when he looked in their direction. Something had come over him, and she was not quite sure what it was, but he was guarded, somehow. "Partially, yes," he paused. "That waiter. The one who served you your drink. Did you get a chance to see what he or she looked like? What kind of mask it was?"

The princess gave him a suspicious frown. "You know something about all of this?"

"Yes," was all he said, with surprising honesty considering his mysterious bearing. "Do not worry. I am not the assassin. For one, I don’t think most assassins would be easily swayed by someone so beautiful.”

His compliment had caught her completely off guard, and because he had for some reason, _known of all this_. That only Impa could have put him up to it, some distant hire as a result of her 'drastic' security measures. Yet her mind could not entirely wrap around this yet. The minor make-up on her cheeks were rosier than they had been originally. A shy smile graced her lips, her eyes searching his masked face with intrigued attentiveness.

And he had noticed this, too.

"Zel… Princess," there was a certain tremor in his voice, nearly slipping her first name. It seemed he was having difficulty maintaining the pieces of the mask that were starting to crumble before him.

* * *

Volga was not able to get a closer inspection of the waiter who had served Zelda, not when he had to stop her from drinking it first. All he had seen was the fleeting view of a shadow, and it vanished with the mob before he could trail after it. Interacting with her had preoccupied him.

When she had drawn so close, with that endearingly indignant look on her face after he had taken her drink - he had been quite certain he had forgotten how to breathe. Yet how could he, when the scent of cherry blossom and peach was so innocently seductive? Did this woman have any idea of what she was doing to him?

He had regained composure, of course. Because even though he couldn't reveal to her as much as both wanted, she deserved some explanation, at the very least. She had to know he would not harm her, whether she believed him or not. The very thought of this potential assassin, waiting to make its move on her at the opportune time, made him more vigilant. It would wait to catch Zelda alone. And if Zelda left Volga's side, which she undoubtably would…

So caught up with his thoughts on the princess's safety, that he did not realize the compliment that slipped from his lips, something that had come naturally to him, and yet with no barrier to hold him back. But there didn't need to be a barrier as much, did there? He was masked.

And then she smiled.

With that one smile of hers, she had stripped him of all his defenses. His mind was now a blend of two; of finding out how to keep the princess close to him so that he could watch over her - and a desire to do something he had pictured so many times, that it could have illustrated a fairy tale of his own.

Volga bowed to her, and offered her his hand.

"Princess," he said softly. "Would you please dance with me?"

 

_I'll be your prince_  
_I'll be your knight_  
_I'll be anything you wish me to be_  
_Dance with me…_  
_I want to hold you in my arms_  
_Before we have to go our separate paths again_  
_Before I die more inside_  
_Can you hear my heart pounding?_  
_I miss you_  
_I love you_  
_I know we cannot be_  
_But for tonight  
_ _Please be my princess._


	11. Wish

If someone was to ask Zelda what she thought of fairy tales as a child, her answer would have been generic: a world of fascinating wonders and daring adventures. Over the years, while these thoughts retained, they also evolved into something a bit more… wishful. Intimate, even. Some could call it a typical adolescent phase, but she had learned past that.

Years of acquired wisdom and persistent lecturing had prepared her to take the role of a full-grown adult, ladened with duties of a monarch, not to waste time with unattainable daydreams.

Thus, she was not prepared for this.

It was as if this man, this perplexing mystery, had delved into the very depths of her fantasies and glimpsed at her most inner secrets. This complete stranger, who somehow managed to courteously enter through the walls she had so carefully built around herself. This should have given her an indication to be all the more suspicious of him, particularly at a time like this, but she could not seem to associate him with such a potential threat right now.

Not when she felt a certain static, a tingling sensation on her fingertips when she accepted his hand. His pleasant warmth seeped _through_ the material of the black leather of his glove. Such a simple contact, and yet she could not recall ever feeling anything so powerfully complex.

Zelda could almost imagine Impa, who would likely notice them soon, chide her for letting her guard down in such a way. How peculiar though. At this time, she did not feel so gullible.

There was something about him…

She could not place what it was. For he too, appeared to be affected, because she felt him tremble at their first contact. The unsteady, but discreet rise and fall of his chest as he placed his other hand around her waist, drawing as close as he dared. Nervous, confident, and for this reason, this made everything feel more natural to her, made her feel less alone in her apparent trance-like state.

The princess was no stranger to dancing, however, it had been several years after all, since she had her last choreography practice session. The basic steps hadn't eluded her memory, but neither were they particularly fresh in her mind. She had remembered the demanding movements and her rigid dance partners. Like the tentative strums on her harp… stiff and mechanical.

But this…

If she could play the chords as beautifully as the way he led this dance, the way he _held_ her as if destined to part away from someone very dear to him - then her music would have taken flight. An enigmatic melody, composing the sweetest sounds and saddest tunes.

His movements did not make her feel like she had to follow a strict pattern. They patiently flowed, never forcing her, always attentive and adjusting to the pace she felt most comfortable with.

"I'm… a bit rusty at this," she said, embarrassed. "I apologize in advance if I trip on you, or do something equally humiliating."

A twisted smile formed at his lips. "So does this mean I get to teach the royal to dance?"

Zelda was about to give him a playful retort, when he spun her around with one arm during their dance. "Don't worry, it's an honor to guide you," he continued, and even with that smugness, Zelda could detect a certain happiness in his tone, like he was genuinely thrilled to be able to do this. That she was allowing him to.

"If you trip," he spoke again, following through what he had initiated, gently turning her around in his arms. For a brief moment, her back settled against his chest, and Zelda had to suppress the urge to try and visualize every contour of muscle that embodied this creature. "I won't let you fall, Princess," he whispered behind her ear, causing a shudder of foreign delight to trail down the nape of her neck.

She was _not_ swooning. Her legs merely felt a little wobbly, that was all, though it was enough to cause a reaction.

Zelda felt his arms wrap around her from behind, his very warmth and feel lulling her to want to do nothing more than just relax in his embrace. Was she dreaming? Or was she so deprived of a man's physical contact, that she'd succumb so readily, even to a stranger? But this was a masquerade, wasn't it? He could act however he wanted, for the most part. No man would have been so daring and dreamy to her without a mask.

And then he said something that sent her mind into a complete daze.

"I missed you."

* * *

Volga didn't want to let go. He knew he had to, but he did not posses the power to do so. Not unless she did, which he would of course, oblige, even if…

He felt like there was a gap in his chest. Something burning that only she could soothe. Having her in his arms helped alleviate this. But now that she was here with him, now that he could finally rejoice with the one he had missed for so long - he wanted this… whatever _this_ was - to stay.

She had remained quite still in his arms. He was not sure what was going through her head, or if he had said too much. Perhaps she _knew_ now. His identity. Or perhaps she thought him to be completely insane. It would certainly describe the multitude of feelings he had been experiencing.

"Your heart," she said, slowly turning around in his arms, and placing a hand on his chest, to where the subject of her comment had been pulsating within him. "It's beating so fast."

"I k-know," he rasped. Every fiber of his being was on fire underneath this woman's fingertips.

How quickly Zelda was able to move him, to have him feeling so proud one moment, to being humbled with adoration the next, and then repeat. She had the ability to bring out so much in him, and she probably didn't have the faintest idea why.

His breath hitched in his throat when she raised her hand from his chest, to his face, to the lower portion that wasn't covered by his mask. Zelda's fingers touched his cheek, her skin so soft against his more coarse texture.

And he was struck with deja vu. Of a little girl reaching out to a dragon, of how peaceful it felt. Of the first time they embraced. These feelings hadn't really changed since then, had they? No. There was never a change. There was just innocence, but one that lacked acknowledgement. Yet this did not make it any less confusing to him now.

Volga watched Zelda behind half-lidded eyes, completely oblivious that he was _leaning into_ her touch. Needing this. Needing her. She was lightly reaching for his mask. He had almost forgotten it was on his face at all. He knew what she intended to do, but out of respect, she still asked.

"May I?"

She wanted confirmation. Volga could not blame her, but he would be lying if this wasn't more than a little nerve-wracking right now.

Was he really in a ball room filled with humans? The whole time he felt as if he and Zelda were the only two in the room. It was like he had been on a different plane entirely. Impa had said that he would be a distraction to her, and he could see that being true, but no one had told him how much the princess would distract _him_.

The nostalgia was coming back again. The familiarity of it all. This was like when he first met her, back in her garden. Her asking permission to remove something that covered his face - back then a helmet, and this time a mask. The circumstances had been different, but the irony was still there.

Lost in his enraptured state of mind, he nodded.

Impa was going to kill him. But quite frankly, he could not bring himself to feel intimidated. He couldn't move, couldn't refuse the woman in his arms. Otherwise she might remove her hand.

Her fingers never made it to the edges of his mask however, for in that instant, the light in the room suddenly extinguished into darkness. The chandelier, which had been the ball room's main source of lighting, was put out, like water dousing a flame.

Volga felt her body stiffen, but before he could react, before he could even acknowledge what was going on - a glimmer surged from the top of her hand. He barely caught a glimpse of the triangle outlined there, and he saw the fear in her eyes. Somehow, he had a feeling that he was not supposed to know of this. He was not sure anyone was, for that matter. Volga could not remember ever seeing this mark on Zelda's hand before, and she certainly never brought it up.

"I'm sorry," she said worriedly, the incident stirring her to take action, the weight of the world falling into place at her shoulders. And he saw there, not a fabled princess, but a woman burdened with responsibilities. She slipped away from his arms. "I need to go."

Unwanted panic took over him. His arms, now empty, hung at his sides, but they felt detached from his body. Like they weren't a part of him. He understood the urgency of the situation, but he was not expecting it to have been so cruel.

"Zelda, wait -"

But she was gone.

* * *

At first, there was silence. The stunned, awkward reactions from the crowd as they looked around in mingled fear and excitement. Some thought this was part of the festival, a theatrical show of enchanted lights meant to entertain them. But Zelda knew better. She grabbed a hold of the wine glass she had put aside, hidden from view, the one where most of her drink had spilled. The one that man had knocked out of her hand earlier. The man who just _couldn't_ be who she thought - who she secretly wished it would be. Who she'd dream about, of linked hands strolling in a busy town, sometimes of dark wings folding around her.

_Focus_ , she told herself, carefully making her way past the mob. The room wasn't entirely dark; candles were faintly lit from the tables and wall scones. Zelda looked up at the ornate, crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. The light from within the delicate glass would have normally been lit up, not with fire or oil, but with magic.

Zelda closed her eyes, placing her hand over her glowing mark, as if to cover it, when she was in fact, drawing magic from within. Small, spheres of light surrounded around her, before she redirected them toward the chandelier. For a few seconds, the room was lit up again, in its same splendor as it had been before. She headed toward the main entrance of the ball room, to where Impa had been. And then…

The lights went out once more. Whoever was doing this was presumably using magic of their own, and was apparently just as proficient at blotching out the light as she was in lighting it. Theoretically, yes, Zelda could just try and light the place up again, but, unless she wanted to give her people a seizure from the constant flickers, she was likely wasting her time right now.

"Impa," she approached the Sheikah, who had shut the doors and was pacing near the king, her fingers around the scabbard of the giant blade on her waist. "Father. Are you two alright?"

The king nodded, his mask lifted above his face, and even in the semi-darkness, she could see the worry etched along the wrinkles of his forehead. But he looked nowhere near as agitated as Impa did. He must have still been unaware of the prevalent danger. Now might be the time to tell him, but Impa spoke up at first.

"That man you were dancing with. Did he say or do anything to you?" she demanded.

Zelda gave her a quizzical look. She was not so unaware that Impa knew who he was. Unless someone had managed to sneak in here past Impa's utmost scrutiny, Zelda knew Impa had kept a list of names of those who attended, and the description of their chosen mask and costume. A list she was very interested in looking at, herself. But something kept her back from referring to it right now, especially with Impa's current reaction.

"If you're asking whether he's done something _improper_ ," said Zelda, with mild sarcasm and emphasis on the word. "Then no.” Impa did not need to know how she had felt around him, or the words he had told her. That was something for herself to decipher, when she didn't have an ominous threat lurking around.

With a tense sigh, the princess continued. "I suppose… there was this drink he knocked out of my hand. He said I shouldn't drink it, but nothing more. Not that it matters, since it's pretty much gone now anyway," she held out the mostly empty glass in front of her.

Impa reached out for her wine glass. There was barely any liquid left, perhaps five drops at the most. She took a sniff, and frowned. "It smells like normal alcohol and red wine."

"Wait," said the king, interrupting their conversation. "Let me see that."

Impa handed him the glass, and he placed it on the table in front of him for closer inspection, moving one of the candles next to it for better visibility. Zelda and Impa watched as he took a small piece of bread from his plate, and dropped it in the glass.

The crust that surrounded the bread broke apart like crumbling walls. Inside, the soft dough suddenly began to twitch violently, the sight appearing like a bug convulsing inside an acidic pool. This went on for several minutes, before the bread, or what was left of it, became perfectly still.

"What is this?" Impa asked, disturbed. "Poison?"

Her father cleared his throat. "Poisons found in our lands are not normally colorless like this. And most of them have a distinct, acidic scent. This one was clearly distilled, and desaturated to a transparent state. But I can't possibly see this being feasible without magic being involved. And more importantly, the very nature of where this venom had come from. The closest that I could relate to its effect would be toxins from the Deku Babas, found more commonly deep within our forest. But to be able to produce such a powerful substance would require a Deku Baba of tremendous size, or a multitude of them."

A grave expression settled on his face as he peered over at his daughter. "My dear, this wasn't just any poison. Whoever gave this to you not only intended to kill you, but to give you a most excruciating death. If a _few_ drops of this caused this much of a reaction, I am horrified to imagine what a full glass would have done."

"Your Majesty," Impa said apologetically. "Forgive me for not highlighting the potential dangers of this festival."

"That's quite alright, Impa," the king answered, though he sounded more stern than forgiving. "I have gathered as much."

Zelda felt ill as she glanced between them, hoping someone would wake her from - what had previously been a dream, was now a growing nightmare. Her eyes fell to the Triforce piece on her hand, which, as much as she tried to hide it, was still gleaming distractedly. If Impa and her father noticed, they made no comment on it at the moment. That man had seen it though.

_That man kept me from drinking this…_

"Impa," said the king firmly. "Take this glass to our apothecary wing, and have our alchemist inspect its contents. While there, bring any antidote you can find, in the unfortunate event that someone here gets inflicted. Meanwhile, I'm going to notify our servants to take away all the drinks in sight until this situation is handled. Zelda, you know what the waiter who served you looked like, correct?"

She nodded vaguely. "Yes, but the body was so heavily covered with cloth and black feathers, that the gender was a little androgynous. The mask was shaped like a beak at the nose, and the overall costume seemed to be some kind of crow… or raven."

"Do we have anyone listed dressed as such?" the king asked Impa, and she immediately began to review the list.

Impa mumbled under her breath. "Let's see, we have swans, chickens, peacocks…" it would have sounded as if she was describing something from an aviary. "No, it does not appear that we have anyone listed here as a crow or raven."

"May I see that list, Impa?" Zelda prompted, trying not to show too much interest on her… additional motives.

There was an uncomfortable pause, as Impa stared at her for a moment. Then, "Yes," she said slowly, before reluctantly handing Zelda the list. "Of course you may, Your Highness."

Zelda skimmed down the list, and just like Impa, she saw no one listed as the suspect in question. However, she was searching for more than just the suspect. And Impa knew this too. In the category of costumes, there was only one prince. But on the section next to it, rather than the name of the individual, like everyone else had, it simply read:

_Prince: Confirmed_

With an indifferent expression on her face, Zelda calmly handed the list back to her care taker.

_Clever, Impa_ , she thought, amused. _But in some ways, you made this more intriguing. If you didn't want me to know, you should have made up a name._

Zelda looked away from them, and gazed over at the heads of the crowd in the candle lit room, hearing their quiet chatter. "I don't believe the cause of the lights going out was a coincidence. This was more than a means to frighten us," said the blonde quietly.

"And what are you suggesting?" Impa asked, clearly not liking where she was going with this.

"It's possible, assuming any of this is truly some scheme to get me - that this was a warning meant to lure me away from my protection here. If this is indeed so, I will have to face this alone. I'll need to find that server," she said decisively. "Before someone gets hurt."

* * *

Volga watched the humans with inquisitive sullenness. He wondered how many of them would have chosen to attend this event, if they had known the princess was in danger. Would they even have cared? Would they have looked past the crown on her head? If it weren't for Impa and her father, would she have to carry all the weight on her own?

These thoughts were not new to him, exactly, but they had become more than just floating questions. Because now, he actually wanted to take action about it. He wanted to ease her burdens in some way, even if he didn't have the authority to do so. He wanted to _be there_ for her, not just offer words of consolation behind a letter.

"Yes I did! I saw a shadow surge right out of the ground!" an elderly woman's voice argued nearby. "Who does that?"

"Oh, grandmother," a younger woman responded. "You probably mistook it for one of the court mages and jesters performing magic tricks. It's part of the festival, remember?"

"No, no, I'm telling you. It went right out of that window!"

Volga followed his gaze to where she was pointing to. In a more secluded corner of the room, there was an open window against the wall, a window that had not been open previously before. Could this have been how this individual had gotten in the castle?

Approaching the place where the suspect had potentially gone through, Volga shifted the curtains to the side, and stared out the window. Being that this was the ground floor of the castle, the jumping height out of this window wasn't an issue. He turned around and surveyed the humans behind him; it was difficult to tell how many of them noticed what was going on behind their masks, other than the occasional painted face looking in his direction.

The Dragon Knight crawled through the window and leapt outside, landing swiftly on the pavement beneath him. There was seemingly no one nearby, and the silent court yard felt as if it was holding its breath in anticipation.

He continued exploring, taking note of a majestic fountain in the center of the neatly-trimmed lawn. A set of sculptures were arranged, coated in what looked like liquid gold. They formed a triangular pattern, the shape becoming more apparent with the object it took the place of, like the mark on Zelda's hand. For there, was a replica of the Triforce. Every piece was embraced by each goddess that represented them.

And the Triforce… there were so many myths about it, but what was actually factual? It was rumored that the relic could grant someone a wish, even the most desperate desire of their hearts. Was that was this was - a wishing fountain?

_A wish…_

Desire was such a cunning concept. Volga glanced at the scattered coins inside the fountain, and saw the lone silhouette of his reflection before him. It was not riches he craved for, surrounded by bountiful treasures. It was not even power, may it be raw strength or conquer. Of the mighty warrior he constantly strived to be.

The water rippled softly, like the imaginary caress of rain drops upon its bleak surface. His reflection was clearer now, like looking into a mirror. But they did not mimic his actions. There wasn't even a mask. His wings were present, but he was still dressed in this outfit. Still a prince. And like with the capability of any prince, he had his princess.

He knew it shouldn't have been so shocking to him, but he was rooted to the spot as he stood there, watching his reflection encircle his arms around her from behind, much like he had done earlier, because he had not yet known anything else with her. Was this what they had looked like? They seemed so… intimate, that Volga almost felt as if he was intruding.

Zelda leaned her head against his chest, a smile of contentment on her lips. A smile that matched his own reflection, something that was so rare, that he could very well see why this was only the hopeful fabrications of his mind. He held her tenderly, and she was tilting her head slightly up at him, her fingers cupping the side of his face, bringing them closer… their reflection slowly becoming a blur.

Bringing his hand to his own cheek, he let his gloved fingers linger there for a few seconds, reminiscing on the feel of her soft skin when she touched him. Even if she only intended to remove his mask…

When the image faded, Volga desolately reached for the sculpture in front of him, pressing the palm of his hand flat against the center of the Triforce replica. As if hoping in the absurd possibility that the goddesses would alternate the dimensions of the universe and reconstruct his longing into reality.

An abrupt stir came from the rose shrubbery beyond the fountain, startling him. Volga gazed through the gap of the center triangle, and saw the slightest movement from the shadows. He took a deep breath, his mind still dazed from what he had envisioned. Moving away from behind the sculpture, he strode over to where the sound had come from.

That scent again. The mild whiff of ivy he had detected from earlier. Only this time, it was much stronger than before. Where were the guards? But of course, even if they were around, they wouldn't have been able to detect its scent.

Furthermore, Impa had been so focused on guarding _inside_ the ball room, that the outside wasn't as protected as it should have, or at least, this court yard wasn't. If it had been up to Volga, he would have stationed at least two guards on each side of the exterior, and a third to patrol the entire grounds.

Volga came to a halt in his footsteps. There, behind the sharp, prickling leaves of the bushes, was the suspect. It was crouched on the ground with its back to him, glossy, ebony feathers trailing down the tail coat of its cape. From this angle, Volga could see the elbow-length gauntlet, of material akin to black deer pelt. Dark, ashen fingers protruded from the fingerless gauntlet, likely for nimbleness and to facilitate with what it was doing. But Volga could not tell if this was paint on its skin, nor could he determine its gender yet.

The suspect held up a pipette with its hand, squeezing several drops into a vial of plum-colored liquid. At this, the liquid began to diffuse colors - until it became as transparent as spring water. Plucking one of the roses from the shrub, it released a single drop of this recolored liquid onto the rose for experimentation. Nothing happened. Hissing, the suspect grabbed another vial, and tried again.

This time, the flower contorted erratically, as if it was being electrocuted. Soft petals shriveled up and detached itself from its support. The stem ripped apart from inside out, nutritional fluids trickling onto the grass. To Volga's revulsion, he noticed these weren't a few vials the suspect was hoarding. Because as he leaned forth, he saw at least _fifty_ vials, stashed inside a wide pouch.

Volga reached for the cutlass on his waist, the weapon that had been so carefully concealed within his own cape. While he preferred his spear, this had no bearing on the current situation. A weapon was still a weapon, after all. And he would make use of this one just as any other.

Pointing the tip of the silver blade at the suspect's shoulder, Volga narrowed his eyes. "Stand up," he commanded. "Drop everything in your hands."

The suspect froze, before carefully letting go of the vials on the grass and pouch. Slowly, it stood up.

"Turn around," Volga continued, maintaining the cutlass poised in place. When the suspect didn't do so, Volga spoke again. " _Now_ ," he said darkly.

In a sinister motion, the shadowed figure turned, not its body, but its head, until Volga could see a sideways profile of its face. The hair was either too short, or it was covered by the mask, but Volga could see the pointed ear… similarly to Zelda's. The top of its face, up until its mouth - like his own mask, was covered with a black mask. Only this mask encompassed feathers along its edges, and a beak prominent at where the nose would be, the tip curling slightly. Its lips were drawn on a thin, emotionless line.

Then it was reaching for something - a weapon of its own. The weapon was on its back, hidden underneath its feathered cloak. And Volga could distinguish the shape of a shield on its back as well. But it did not grab the shield, only the sword. The blade itself looked as it had been made from dark matter… it did not even seem entirely solid. The hilt was suspiciously mythical, like something modeled from an ancient tale.

So it wanted to fight him. Very well. At the very least, he would be able to buy time until Impa found them and took it away for interrogation.

They both initiated their attack at the same time, silver blade meeting black.

* * *

Zelda took on a hurried pace, almost sprinting, before Impa could trail after her to find out what she was up to. If not for her father needing their body guard at his side, this would have been more of a challenge. Both had protested against the idea of Zelda using herself as bait for the assassin, but the time for observing was over, and she needed to take matters into her own hands.

She only needed to make one quick stop.

Closing shut the main doorways behind her, she spotted two of her guards marching back and forth on the hallway. They stopped in their tracks to give her a salute. "Your Highness," one of them stated. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes," Zelda lied. "Have either of you seen or heard any strange activity during duty?"

They shook their heads, and she nodded in acknowledgement. "Very well," she replied. "Please stay on your guard, and be careful. I will return to the ball room shortly. I need to make a visit to the armory."

Zelda knew perfectly well that she didn't have to explain herself to her soldiers when it came to trivial things, such as where she was going. But given everything that had transpired so far, she felt it wiser to keep them informed of her whereabouts. She would tread lightly where she needed to, but she would not keep her tracks covered. Not for this.

Upon reaching the armory, she was met with a locked door, and glanced around to make sure her guards were not staring in her direction. Once she found the opportunity, she lifted the ruffle of her dress with deftly sophistication, her hand sneaking up her leg until her fingers grasped a ringlet of keys that had been dangling from her lace garter belt. Unclasping the ringlet, she skimmed through the few keys, finding the brass key with a rugged edge.

She unlocked the door and stepped inside. The scent of coal dust and molten iron filled the air as she took in sight of the weapons in the room, both polished or in development. From rusted daggers to bows made of flexible Deku willow, to spiked maces forged from the sturdiest volcanic ore. There was a certain smoky incense that Zelda found strangely enticing.

Licking her lips, she began to work on removing the royal armor that had been displayed neatly on a mannequin. She would not have time to go and change outfit, so she would have to put her armor pieces on her dress as she was. Just when she was about to finish the plate along her hips, however, something had caught her attention.

On a pile of weapons against the wall, were the guest weapons Impa must have confiscated from those who had come armed. Amidst the stacks of swords and occasional shield, was a long, familiar spear. The tip was shaped like a spade, the material reminding her of the prehistoric dragon bone sketches she had seen in the castle's museum collection. Something that Impa would have access to after all, since she once owned this spear before passing it to the one for his trial.

_Volga…_

Zelda felt a sensation hit her, so powerful that she nearly dropped the armor plate in her hands. If this wasn't any more evidence to fulfill her doubts, she didn't know what was. Other than the mask of course, but she had missed her chance with the turn of events. She had missed…

_I missed you_ … his voice, so unrestrictedly composed, yet so restrainedly despondent when he held her in his arms. It all made sense now, and at the same time, it only brought more questions and confusion. She was supposed to focus on her task, but she found that she could not focus at all.

She reached for the spear, struggling to settle her thoughts into place.

And in her moment of weakness, in the mere minutes she allowed herself to reflect upon her feelings, a creak came from the door. Somewhere in the figment of her imagination, she found herself hoping it was him. That she had turned a chapter in a pinnacle of foreseen happiness and he would come right through that door. She was not quite sure how she would react either, given her current emotions.

But though the door opened, no one came. Not even foot steps could be heard. Biting her lip, she walked forward toward the door, subconsciously tightening her grip around Volga's spear.

Then she saw it.

A hulking shadow appeared on the wall next to the partially open door, one that was not the shade of anything else in the room… for nothing here contained its shape. She could see that unmistakable beak along its masked face, the distorted form of its body growing larger as it moved. Then a leg stuck out of the wall, coming right from the shadow itself, followed by another. Before she knew it, its entire body was in the room with her.

Something about this individual was different than the one who had served her the drink. It was the feathers on its mask and costume - rather than being pitch black, the tips were coated in red. Was there… more than one of these things?

With no words, with no warning, the assassin suddenly drew a sword from its back and lunged right at her. Zelda jumped backwards in alarm, the attack knocking away the axes and cleavers that had been on a shelf just barely away from her. The weapons fell to the ground with a loud, resounding crash. From the second shelf, steel helmets tumbled over in the assassin's direction, providing a brief distraction for Zelda to react.

The shock however, had momentarily numbed her with fear. She darted behind one of the other shelves, away from its view. There was a table behind the shelf, and Zelda hid underneath it, clutching the spear in her hand. Her heart was in her throat as she tried to muster the courage that she could not seem to find right now.

And then everything went silent.

Zelda tried to breathe, but she found that she had been holding her breath the entire time. She could not move from where she had been crammed underneath the table. _I need to face this_ , she told herself harshly. _I can't lose my nerve… it is not expected of me…_

Words of course, were easier said than done. Just when Zelda was about to force herself out of her position, a faint dripping sound caused her to remain still. Perhaps she could attack from stealth? If she was going to play hide and go seek, she figured she might as well make use of it. She needed to conjure her rapier. But if she did, surely, the assassin would spot her. That glowing sword would stand out like the beam of a light house.

_Drip. Drip._

Zelda flinched at the sound, for it was growing louder, and the lack of foot steps were unsettling her. But though there were no foot steps, the shadow's boots came into view, as it was walking slowly in the room, searching for her.

_Why am I hiding?_

There it was, that dripping again. What _was_ that sound?

As if reading her thoughts, the boots turned to face her direction. Those boots were all she _could_ see from her current view from underneath the table, and yet they appeared just as intimidating as seeing its full form. And when they began to walk toward her, ever so languidly, Zelda felt her mouth go dry.

_I'm hiding because I am afraid._

The walking ceased, the boots standing right in front of her table, as if was taking a moment to amuse itself by the cover she had so instinctively chosen to hide herself in. She felt like she had pins and needles on her hand, and she realized, stricken, that the persistent mark on her hand was _still_ glowing. It was casting a distracting triangular light on the surface of the table right above her, even through her attempt to conceal it.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

Zelda could see the shadow of the assassin's sword next to its boot, pointing downwards. Something dripped from the tip of its sword, the source of the sound she had been hearing. The liquid splattered on the rug, causing the fabric to compress, until a hole was singed through from where the drop had landed. It was that poison. The blade was coated with it.

She had to get up. Fear was out of the question now. Even if this assassin walked away and left her be, she could not simply allow it to get away. Not when it could harm others, and after the way she had seen it attack so mindlessly…

But it was not going anywhere. Before she could move, before she could conjure her weapon, the table suddenly split above her. Her eyes widened as she saw the dark hilt, cut _through_ the wooden surface like a knife through butter. Had her leg been a mere step away from where it was currently, she would have been struck. Instead, the sword plunged into the edge of her dress, tearing through and causing a slit on the fabric next to her leg.

Zelda screamed, her body shaking as she crawled away from the now broken table, pushing away the wooden clunks that were falling on top of her. One of the pieces, sharp at the edges, nicked at her now exposed leg, but she had not felt the pain or the warmth of her blood until she stood up, stumbling against the wall.

The assassin turned to her, like a hawk who had just spotted a fish, its prey, close to the surface of the water. Carelessly kicking away the scraps of wood between them, it stepped over the pile toward her, ready to corner her from where she stood. This time however, Zelda did not sit idle.

Somehow in all of this, she never let go of Volga's spear, and she turned it swiftly between her fingers. Zelda aimed the weapon at the assassin, who stopped in its tracks, seeming far more apprehensive now. The range of Volga's spear conveniently kept the enemy away, something she was all the more grateful for.

This time, she did not wait for it to make a move, and she stepped forward, thrusting the spear upwards, the tip snagging onto the cloth of the assassin's chest. The assassin jerked away, shoving the spear away with its sword. In some ways, the rapier and spear were not so different. Both were relatively light and agile, and they both focused more on thrusting and stabbing, rather than cutting and slashing.

Though this did not mean she was experienced using the spear. In fact, the fight had been quite clumsy, both Zelda and the assassin knocking away everything around them as they moved, the closed space with which they fought not giving them much room for finesse.

The assassin grasped at the wound on its chest, and Zelda could have sworn she saw a flash of red behind the eye sockets of its mask. She would not have known there was a wound because there was no blood to indicate this. It was the assassin's backwards staggering that began to show her that its vitality was weakening.

It then reached for its back, pulling out a shield she had not known it had. She could not see the details on the shield, but she noticed that the heraldry looked uncannily similar to that of the design of the legendary Hylian shield, only without its more colorful variant… instead more of a black base with silver outlining.

Zelda entered a meditative state as she held out her unequipped arm before her. A thin, ray of light floated in the air above her fingers. The particles slowly began to take on a solid shape, as they turned into a slender hilt, followed by a curved grip. With both rapier and spear in each hand, she stepped forward, trying to adjust to the difference of weight in each hand between both weapons.

With a heavy bash, the assassin hid behind its shield, attempting to ram into her. Zelda slammed the tip of Volga's spear on the ground, hard. Holding a firm grip around the spear with her fingers, she wove a leg around it, using her momentum to spin away from the assassin's attack, almost as if she was in a dance.

When the assassin missed, it turned around sharply, propping up its shield to block Zelda's rapid stabs with her rapier, the element from her weapon burning into the darkness of its shield, forming dents along where she had slashed. With an unexpected noise of frustration, the shadowed figure suddenly threw its shield, full force, right at her.

Zelda held out her armored arms in front of her, but the weight of the shield knocked her backwards onto the ground, and though she parried the blow with the spear, there was burning pain on her abdomen from the collision. Rolling away from the ground and wincing in pain, she scrambled back to her feet.

She took advantage of the assassin's lack of shield now. Zelda thrust the spear at the assassin's sword hand, knocking the blade from its grasp. With her rapier, she pointed the glowing tip at its chest.

"Enough," she said, in a hoarse, but tired voice.

She was about to make another move, when the assassin suddenly sunk, its entire body seemingly going through the ground even as it was standing up. But rather than going through the ground, it disappeared into a black portal beneath its feet that had not been there before.

"Your Highness!"

Two of her guards dashed inside, barely catching sight of the assassin warping out of the room. Impa followed shortly after, her usual, narrowed eyes widening when she spotted the princess, and even further when she noticed the weapons in her hand.

Before any of them could say anything, Zelda spoke. "I'm alright," she said, even though she knew perfectly well that she wasn't. "Impa, where is the other one? I know there is more than one."

"There's…" Impa broke off. "Some kind of commotion in the court yard." Then with a sigh of defeat, she added. " _He_ is fighting one of them right now."

* * *

The blades looked like a blur of black and silver as they clashed, the metals ringing throughout the court yard. Volga wasted no time; he moved quickly, forcefully, putting his strength into every swing, his animosity into every opening he could find. He thought of the wilted rose, and thought of Zelda. This… vermin could have done that to her.

"Why?" Volga gnarled. "Why would you try to kill her? What do you have to gain from this?"

But the enemy made no reply, in fact, Volga had not heard it say anything other than make a few disgruntled sounds. Was it even human? And on that subject, the Dragon Knight took notice of a handful of on-lookers who had most likely began to notice the background noises coming from outside their window to the ball room. A small group even dared to go out to the court yard to spectate, their jaws dropping at the sight before them.

Taking advantage of Volga's brief distraction, the shadowed figure made a vertical motion with its sword, and though he was far enough away from it, Volga was met with three, linear projectiles that had come _from_ the sword. He could feel his body give painful spasms to the dark sorcery, threatening to force him to the ground, but Volga would not have that. He would not be defeated in such a disgraceful manner.

Regardless, he had not been expecting this fighter to be a spell sword. Magic was not… something Volga was as proficient in fighting against, compared to melee combat. He would have to be more careful with that projectile.

Volga focused on his enemy's next attack, taking a defensive stance this time as he tried to analyze its fighting techniques. He noticed that whenever he had the upper hand, the assassin would make a spinning motion with its sword as a panic option to get away, but doing so slowed it down by the time it was done. This has been the first time he had seen the assassin show any sign of fatigue.

Seeking his opportunity, Volga sliced forth - from the front of its cloak, to across its face, cutting its mask and cloak right off, black feathers scattering all around them. Just like the skin tone on its fingers, its face was the same shade of charcoal. A gash was spread diagonally across its face from where Volga had injured it, but there was _no blood_. Perturbed, Volga looked up at the pair of red eyes that were glowering at him.

There was a distinct masculinity to its face, and the gender became more apparent when Volga took notice of the flat, squared chest from the black tunic, the tunic that had been underneath the feathered cloak. Light chain mail could be seen from the edges of the tunic. A dark cap was on his head, along with an ebony scarf that had been partially shredded from their fight.

The assassin was losing his grip on his sword. This blow had weakened him.

"Surrender," Volga advised, his cutlass aimed and prepared for his next move. "I won this round."

But he did not give Volga the satisfaction of a victory. A smirk curled on his lips. Not like Volga's smirk of dry humor or pride. This one consisted of a certain deranged glint, of something with malicious intentions.

And before Volga could react, the shadow suddenly disappeared.

There were sounds of awe from the humans, who had grown in number now. Disoriented, Volga looked around. One of the humans was pointing to something in the air. "There! He's over there!"

Volga looked up and saw that the shadowed figure had materialized up on the battlements of the castle, so high up, that it would have taken countless floors to get to him. He could see his dark outline in front of the the full moon, which was a sinister orange hue from the transitioning lunar eclipse. Had he teleported? This sorcery was infuriating.

"Coward!" Volga roared at him.

But now came the conflict. There were humans in this court yard, and Impa had made an emphasis on the matter of his discretion. What was he supposed to do? Allow this assassin to get away? Even if he could make it up to the battlements, in a humanely manner, how many ramps and flights of stairs would he have to run to reach him? How long until a life was taken tonight?

“Volga.”

Just like that, his wrath and doubts began to ebb away at that voice. Surely he had imagined it. Didn't his mind torment him enough today as it was?

No, because there she was. Princess Zelda, holding two weapons in hand. A magnificent, golden rapier and… _his spear_. If that hadn't been enough to blow his mind away, she had armored parts of her dress; her shoulders and upper chest, the sides of her hips, and along her lower arms and legs. There were blood stains scattered across the front fold of her dress, like blotches of red, painted flowers. She had been in battle.

Volga lost resolve of everything and anything. He ambled over to her, not caring who was watching, not caring who would reprimand him. Getting down on one knee, he took her free hand, the one that had not been holding their weapons. "W-who did this to you?"

"I'm alright," she reassured him, blue eyes shining mysteriously as their fingers intertwined. "I just finished fighting one of them."

"One of…" he mumbled incoherently. _There was more than one._

"Take me with you, Volga. To the battlements. We will finish this together."

* * *

Volga had not asked her how she found out, how she had come across his weapon, how _anything_ came to be that led up to this point. The time for questions would come, but it was not now - just like when they had fought off the Beamos together in the cave where he had his trial.

Two enormous wings sprung out of his back, tearing through the expensive threading on his uniform, even though Volga had practiced such transformation enough times to reduce as much damage to his clothing as he could. His full form would likely not be needed, especially if he had to tread along the more narrow pathways of the battlements. He did not wish to potentially damage the foundation of her castle either with what his dragon weight could pose.

Even with the present, crucial situation, the faces and reactions of the humans right now were amusing him to no end. He spotted Impa among them, who had arrived with the king at her side, holding a satchel of potions that Volga could only assume were antidotes. They had been more caught up with this than he thought.

"I'm ready," said Zelda, looking slightly flustered despite her weary determination. Volga exhaled softly when she closed her arms around him. She was shaking… what had she gone through? He gently hefted her off the ground, bridal style, placing one arm firmly around her back for support, while his other arm carefully moved over her dress to hold her behind her knees. Kicking off from the ground, he flew into the night sky, carrying her in his arms.

Volga felt her tighten her hold on him as the court yard shrunk beneath them. Aside from the current company below, he could see that the majority of the guests were still in the ball room. Through the glass panel windows on the ceiling above the ball room, he noticed that the room continued to reflect with faded light, absent from the mystical source of the chandelier. The candles almost appeared to be floating within, its glow like little fire flies scattering in the dark.

There were still people dancing too, likely those who were not yet alerted to what was going on. Lost in their moment, as he had been when he danced with Zelda. Tailored coats and abstract costumes, dancing with women of colorful, flowing dresses that resembled spinning parasols from this height.

Landing on top of the battlement from where Volga had originally spotted the assassin, he set Zelda down, and looked around the empty ramparts. The shadowed figure was nowhere to be seen. He glanced at the princess, unable to help the protectiveness burning inside him. "You don't have to fight," he consoled her. "I can handle him."

He was expecting her to refuse, but she did not say a word - and neither did she comply. Instead, she drew close, placing a hand on the cobbled wall behind him, sealing the gap between them. Volga's body felt pinned against the wall, this… tall, bulky frame before this petite human. There was something in her gaze that he could not understand, like some kind of assertive need to give her proof, a little flair of hope amidst all the dangers that surrounded them.

The princess took off his mask, discarding it on the ground behind them. Since she had already asked before, she was merely continuing what she had started. Volga could not recall feeling both anxious and relieved, but in that moment, he never felt both emotions so strongly as he did now.

She was studying him from head to foot, and Volga felt a fluttering sensation in his stomach. He thought of futile things, such as how tousled his hair must have been, how ragged his prince outfit looked now, with his wings outstretched behind him. Zelda was staring at him with such an intensity, that he could not meet her eyes. He found that he was beginning to blush, so he tried to speak in an effort to regain some sense of dignity.

"Princess, we should…"

"You are _breath-taking._ "

Volga gave a choked laugh, unprepared for such a comment. She was one to talk, too. The bands that held her braid were loosening, her hair slightly frizzled and her cheeks flushed from all the tension she had been enduring. The sight made her appear more human, and less of an ornamental doll to be displayed for everyone. But to him, she was radiant. 

Remembering what he had pictured in the fountain, and aware of where his thoughts were taking him, he forced himself to focus on his words.

"Did you come with me just to tell me that?” he tried to sound teasing, but he was not sure that he succeeded. 

"No," said Zelda bashfully, lowering her arm from the wall, looking down at their combined weapons on her other hand. “I…”

And she began to explain everything. She told him of what her father said about the deadly wine, about the list of guest names Impa had kept, and how his name wasn't on there. She told him about the armory, and how she had found his spear. She told him of her battle with one of the assassins, though he had a feeling she left out a lot more detail than she wanted, that she was more affected by everything than she attempted to hide.

Volga placed his hands on each one of her shoulders, a subconscious action, in his desire to comfort her. While he would have enjoyed the sight of Zelda using his weapon, he did not wish for her having to gone through any of this. Battling had always been something he had regarded as a kind of leisure, one of honor, like during his training with King Dodongo and spars with the elder reptilians. Or even more childish during the times he and Amusei would be at each other's throats, like cub siblings playing around on the ground. But he had yet to experience it in such a way where life and death had become so evident, and he didn’t think she did either.

“This is all very real now, isn't it?" Zelda said in a small voice. "Everything Impa and my father had warned about, has it all started happening? I think they had, even before this. Volga, these assassins… they're not breathing beings like us. They do not bleed. The one you were fighting, I think he wore off now."

"Wore off?"

Zelda nodded. "I'm almost certain they are being summoned, which is why they keep reappearing, and why they wear off after a certain amount of time. There are - enchantments that protect this castle, barriers meant to keep away dark magic. But the barriers are not always so strong. These assassins have been trying to get to me for several days. I thought I was imagining things when I started seeing distorted shadows in my bed room. But I… I believe they've been trying to…"

He could not hide the concern in his eyes, even if he wanted to. These… conjurations, this sickening dark sorcery - had been pursuing Zelda even before tonight. They had been trying to spawn in her room. If it weren't for these barriers that Zelda spoke of, he was horrified to imagine what they might have done to her in her sleep.

"I will fight them, Princess," said Volga defiantly. "I'm going to fight every one of them, and we’ll find the one responsible for summoning them."

She rested a hand on his arm. "When I found it was you today," her voice filled with emotion. "I was… _I am_ , still a bit overwhelmed. I cannot possibly explain everything I feel, seeing you here right now. It's too much. But all I know is that with these dangers surrounding us, I don't expect, or want you to be fighting them alone. I don't want to fight them alone either. I want to fight them at your side."


	12. Shield

The heavy clang of turning gears came to a brief stop, as the long hand settled on the next hour. It was only a moment ago since the eclipse of the moon came to pass, but the steadfast ticking of time was a reminder that the night was not yet over.

A circular banner draped over the face of a magnificent clock, decorated with esoteric designs meant to match the legendary Clock Tower, an attribute to the theme of the festival. The tower was tall enough to oversee most of the castle, with a narrow walkway around the clock.

It was this tower, that one of the Hylian soldiers had been stationed to patrol during his shift. Fortunately, he did not have to stand at the very top, which eased his discomfort with the height - not that he'd admit his fear to the others. A job was a job, and it was keeping his family fed, so he would not complain.

He was about to hum aloud, until he heard indiscernible sounds coming from _behind_ the clock. At first, he thought he imagined it, but when he heard them again, he tightened his fingers on the grip of his sword.

Pressing his back to one of the sides of the clock, he slowly craned his neck from around the corner to observe.

* * *

It was there, behind the clock, where two figures warped to their summoner.

They were both crippled from their battle with the princess and the dragon, hunched over on their knees with their faces bowed, possibly out of emotionless shame. Their actions and behavior were, after all, implemented by how the Dark Sorceress saw fit. In her eyes, they were the ideal henchmen; capturing the image of the Hero, with the potential, however limited, to develop fighting techniques.

But more importantly - _they never questioned her orders_. There was no sense of morals or reluctance to carry out her plans, no soul to define their beings. For they did not live, they simply existed.

And though they were ideal, they were not perfect. If they had been, they would not have lost their recent fights.

Two black heels clunked noisily back and forth, until they paused before her crouched followers. Shapely legs bent to their level, one of such legs exposing what appeared to be a reddish orange tattoo, a calligraphy in ancient Hylian.

"My poor minions," she cooed, tilting her own feathered mask as she studied them. One of the Dark Links had even misplaced his mask from his battle, a gash across his non-bleeding face. She lifted his chin with a finger, peering at his crimson eyes. "Perhaps I should have dressed you as Fierce Deity."

When she withdrew, she stood up. "Such a pity that I will have to crash their party. I was hoping to be able to blend in and enjoy the festival. I like the mask I created though, I do believe I will keep this for routine use."

A familiar voice answered in her mind, so synced with her now that it was almost as if she was speaking his words through her lips.

_**Do not act like such an overly eager child. You've depleted the last reserves of your magic with your summoning of the Dark Links, and you need to let your magic regenerate. They will annihilate you.** _

"Oh, please," Cia scoffed. "The dragon perhaps, could be a problem, but that dainty little flower? What's she going to do - blind me with sparkles?"

_**That dainty little flower defeated your dainty little minion**_ , the voice jeered back at her. _**Do not underestimate her. She possesses an ancient power that I'm… all too familiar with…**_

"She was lucky," Cia said defensively. "She'll just wait and see until I learn how to bring my minions to their full potential. Until the Hero makes his appearance and graciously lends me more of his moves so that I can teach onto them."

_**Regardless**_ , the voice warned. _**You should retreat into the portal before engaging in a battle. As if the means of flight wasn't enough to reach you, I should remind you of the sharp eyes of their general. She will search through every tower and behind every wall to find you.**_

Cia was about to protest when she suddenly heard footsteps from nearby, the sound of heavy armor moving - and failing, to be stealthy.

"Well, well," she drawled, her heels clicking on the ground as she walked toward the direction of her observer. "It seems we have a visitor."

A few seconds of silence, likely the moment of stricken realization of having been caught. Then the intruder appeared, clad in steel armor, the hand from which he held his sword shaking as he took a few hesitant steps toward them, eyeing both Cia and her minions with increasing wariness.

"Who are you?" the Hylian soldier asked gruffly. "And who are you talking to?" his second question was more suspicious than anything.

The Dark Sorceress laughed, but it was hardly one of sincere joy. "How rude of you to demand my name without introducing yourself first," she said, waving her hand, her bracelets jingling around her arm as she did so. "No, my dear, who are _you?_ "

When the man didn't answer, the voice urged her mind. _**You should kill him now. If you let him go, he will speak of your appearance to the others, and you will be in danger. Thus, news of your potential identity could ruin our future plans.**_

"Yes, I should," Cia agreed, startling the man, since from his perspective, she was speaking out loud to herself. With her staff in hand, she motioned for her minions to go after him, to which they wordlessly complied.

The Hylian soldier readied his blade as the two minions surrounded him, swords drawn. One of the minions aimed for the soldier's equipped hand, just as Zelda had done to him, disarming the man. The other minion shoved him against the tower's wall, holding the tip of the blade at the man's throat. Both minions awaited Cia's orders for further instruction.

"Or," Cia said slowly, amused at the man's attempt to dig his gauntlet into her minion's face to try and break free. "Or I could use you as my training target to work on my powers to bend your will. You could simply come with us. I could train you to become our first Darknut." she pointed at the portal forming behind her, watching him with an expression of renounced interest. As if he should have been honored by her invitation.

He shook his head vigorously, finally succeeding in pushing one of her minions away, but the other kicked him on his chest plate, causing him to stumble. Both minions hissed, before grabbing the man by each one of his arms in an iron grip.

Cia feigned a sigh. "But of course, you're going to be difficult about it and force the situation. My precious Dark Links, take him away to my lair," she snapped her fingers, and in that instant, both minions began to drag the man toward the portal. "Lock him up once there," she added, rolling her eyes at his violent movements from their hold.

_**Foolish**_ , the voice reprimanded her. _**Should have just gotten him out of the way. What will you do now? You need to warp out of here!**_

"I will leave shortly," she replied, her lips curling into a sneer. "However, I have some… unfinished business here. Don't worry, this will only be a few minutes before I go into the portal. I can't just let all that poison we worked so hard on go to waste, can I? They must know where the poison came from, after all."

Cia took a few steps toward the side of the clock that was facing the court yard, the one where the princess had been in a moment ago - and the one where most of the guests were in now. The witch made sure to keep herself as concealed as possible - even with her confidence, she didn't exactly feel like dealing with the general or that dragon anytime soon. Drawing energy from her staff, she aimed it at the center of the court yard.

"Only a matter of minutes before my darling will spawn," she said proudly, but as she did this, she felt a significant drain in her fatigue and magic. Finally heeding to her companion's suggestion, she retreated to her portal, before vanishing with it. 

* * *

The King of Hyrule was definitely coming of age, but he was not senile just yet. He was well aware of what was going on, from the moment Zelda showed him the drink she had been given. He had connected the hints, put together the pieces of missing or unknown information, a trait that had practically been forced upon him at times of war.

Several matters were brought to his current attention; his daughter was nearly killed, and likely still being tracked. Volga was the masked individual who had danced with her, and spared her from the poison. Both of them, along with Impa were hunting after the assassins - and everyone within the castle was in danger.

His eyesight, sadly, wasn't the same as it was many years ago. So he had to blink several times to make sure he truly had seen his daughter ride Volga, and that there were indeed wings on his back, despite him not being in his… full form. The pair had been about to descend from the battlements when an abrupt turbulence from the ground caused everyone to gasp, disconcerted.

Barely an arm's distance from where the statues of the three goddesses were, a fissure tore open from the grass and concrete, nearly swallowing a group of terrified musicians. Screams of dismay filled the air as the guests scattered around like bugs about to get stomped on.

What looked like a Deku Baba surged from below, only it was at least three times the size of the average carnivorous plant. What was more, there was a peculiar coating surrounding the stem and the head, like a metallic armor. The durability of this covering soon became apparent, because when Impa ordered the archers to shoot at it, the arrows bounced off, like twigs trying to pierce through stone.

"The weapons are no use, General Impa!" one of the archers exclaimed, turning to her for input. "What should - w-what?! There's more of them!"

Sure enough, another Deku Baba sprouted from the ground, and then another, and once more - and the king soon realized that these weren't just Deku Babas. As the entirety of the four-headed creature was revealed, a dark magenta pool bubbled from beneath it. He had no doubt that the substance from that pool was what the poison had been made from, or at the very least, had some relevance to it.

"All guests evacuate the court yard!" the king ordered. "Soldiers, stand on guard and look for an opening!"

“Understood!”

Evacuating the guests was more challenging than it looked, not only because most of them were running around in panic, but because of the sheer number of them. So many, that it required both Impa and the king's efforts to try and get them to safety, whilst keeping an eye on the creature, which had already done more than minor damage to the area.

Impa turned to face him. "You should evacuate too, Your Majesty. Me, Zelda, Volga, and my men will take it from here."

He knew he should, really. He had not entirely lost his ability to fight due to his age, however he'd be more of dead weight to them, if something was to happen to him. He would have reluctantly retreated - if it weren't for the threat his daughter was under. The threat this creature posed at his castle.

This creature…

There was no recent record of such a monster, not in their world, not in their _time_. He had only heard of them through the myths of the other eras, the chilling tales of the Manhandla. The poisonous tree was usually something the Spirit of the Hero had faced, not a helpless crowd among unprepared soldiers, and the Royal Family.

_And a dragon_ , he thought, watching as Volga released a blast of flames from the air, catching two of the wiggling heads. Angered, the other two heads faced his direction, clearly focused on Volga, and no longer on the soldiers who were trying to find a reliable way to strike it.

Though Zelda was but a blur on his back, the king could see the light from her rapier as she swung whenever she was in reach of the Manhandla, looking like a glowing baton near Volga's wings.

There was something extraordinary about the sight; aside from the fact that it was not every day one would see a legendary plant, or someone of the Royal Family riding a dragon, half-form or otherwise. It wasn't even their fighting abilities that stood out to him, or their reaction time when they avoided one of the bulbous heads that lunged toward them. The results of their training were certainly starting to show, but none of this was more apparent than _how they worked together._

It was how they coordinated their movements with the situation given to them, how Volga would change his flight pattern to accommodate Zelda - allowing her to be within reach of the snapping heads, but in such a way that they would have to get through him to be able to touch her.

The flux of guests that Impa and the king had helped evacuate had lessened, but there was still enough of them to take away the time that could be spent helping Volga and Zelda fight the Manhandla. Saving as many as they could was a priority.

One of the guests however, was not so fortunate. The man bellowed in pain as one of the Deku heads slammed at him with deceiving reach, grabbing him by the leg with sharp jaws, and dragging him to the other salivating mouths.

From the ground, there was nothing he nor Impa could do to help this man, not with the toxic pool between them and the Manhandla. From the air was a different story, and the king could see his daughter's face, extending her body forward as she quickly analyzed the situation. There was no 'safer' way to get to the guest right now, and she knew this. So she went with the only option she had that could possibly save his life. Volga was not prepared for her reaction.

She had leapt off of Volga without warning, onto the top of the head that had snatched the guest, making sure not to land inside its mouth. The landing was not smooth, and Zelda had to dig her nails into the back of the creature's head so that she would not slip off. And even with Volga and Impa's indignant 'no!' the king could not pretend to be surprised. This was her mother he was seeing in her after all.

Zelda drove the rapier into the jaws of the head that had been clamped on the man's leg. She exchanged a glance with Volga that was spoken without words, and the dragon quickly understood what she was insinuating. The Deku head released the man, sending him toward the pool beneath it, but Volga caught him, heeding to Zelda's silent request. Volga set the injured man on the ground and out of harm's way, as quickly as possible so that he could return to the fight.

If the Manhandla wasn't vexed already, it certainly was now. Not only were two of the heads notably damaged, but one of them was practically on the verge of being completely cut off. Every head was attentive on Zelda now, as she jumped back toward the ground, the acidic pool so close to her that some of it splattered on her already torn dress, further damaging the fabric.

Suddenly, roots erupted from the grass, not part of the entire monster itself, but as one of its attacks. Up until this point, the Manhandla had only done some foundation damage, and shown the reach its stemmed necks had when stretching toward a victim. But now it was proving to be quite the challenge.

The roots surrounded her, trying to create a wall to prevent anyone from reaching her, including him and Impa. The king turned his attention from the guests to his daughter, taking the cutlass which had been for ceremonial purposes, and now hacking at the thick roots with his only good arm. Impa was far more mobile than he was, using both her blade and magic to try and break through, sending icicles into the air before crashing down at the ground, turning into water, clearing some of the poisonous puddles in the area.

"Ah-ngh!" what sounded like a cross between a gasp and a scream came from his daughter's throat. Horrified, the king glanced past the gap in the root barrier to see that some of the roots had strung around her legs, preventing her escape. Like a snake coiled around its prey, the Manhandla opened each one of its mouths, and for the briefest moment, the metallic covering around it dissipated, revealing its olive hue.

The old ruler wanted to close his eyes and look away, but he could not. He and Impa both yelled out her name, and then everything happened so fast. One moment, Zelda was on the ground, immobilized by the roots, with four lethal jaws wide open toward her. And then the next, there was a flash of red from the sky, and Volga was there, leaning over her.

Volga's arms and wings were around her, covering her entire frame. His back was toward the monster, protecting her from the onslaught of bullet seeds that had spurted from each mouth. The king flinched as they pelted on him, like sharp rocks raining from the sky. Volga was her shield, sponging her from as much damage as he could. And damage, he had indeed taken.

Because even in the few areas where his dragon scales helped reduce the damage, there was something very clear to the king: Volga had no armor.

"Impa," said the king hoarsely. "We need to help them. The metal covering around the plant is gone, now is the time for us to attack it! Strike at the stem with a ranged weapon while I try and destroy more of these roots!"

The Sheikah nodded at once, her red eyes wide with shock, as she pulled out her secondary weapon. Unlike the heavy, slow attacks of her giant blade, her naginata was light and quick - at the expense of not doing as much damage.

"Strike at the stem when the metallic covering fades!" Impa repeated the king's orders to the soldiers. The archers readied their bows. Impa tossed her naginata in a spinning motion toward the Manhandla, severing one of the heads, before the weapon returned back to her like a boomerang.

Arrows flew in the direction of the plant, dealing damage, now that the metallic armor was gone. The soldiers managed to slice through another one of the heads that had already been weakened, leaving only two heads left.

Light shone from Zelda's rapier as she managed to cut through the roots tying her legs, with Volga weakly but carefully ripping the remaining roots with his claw. As both stood up from the ground, he stumbled slightly from the beating he had taken, and Zelda immediately went to support him.

"I'll… be fine," he tried to convince her, but she helped him anyway. The king did not have to look into his daughter's eyes to know there was a fire burning in them when she glared back at the Manhandla.

* * *

Zelda had felt every tremor of his body from the pounding of the bullet seeds, had heard the repeated thunk of impact upon his body and wings. Had seen him bite his lip to try and suppress the sounds of pain which would have been hers instead, and yet it was as if she was feeling what he was. 

A part of her did not feel so brave at the moment - a part of her wanted to run away from everything, to pinch herself awake and not acknowledge that her world was starting to turn upside down. But she couldn't. She had to stay strong, even for awhile longer. It wasn't over yet, and she owed Volga this much.

For him, she found herself deriving strength that she did not know she had. No, this wasn't physical strength, or even magic. It felt stronger than either of those attributes.

This had become more than just finishing this battle. This creature, along with the assassins from earlier, had essentially ruined what could have been the end to an enchanting night. Her father could have been having a good time, at peace from all the concerns regarding war, not straining himself right now to fight when he was in no proper condition to. Her guests and her soldiers could have been chatting still, and listening to the fine musicians that had been playing earlier. Someone could have been dancing with Impa, which would have been an amusing and enjoyable sight to see. Volga…

Blue eyes flickered back at him. Even wounded, he was still determined to put up a fight until it was over, and she knew that if she urged him to sit back and allow her and Impa to finish, he wouldn't have any of it. After what she had seen him do for her, on more than one occasion at that, the dragon would not be at ease until the princess was safe.

_Let's finish this, my dear friend…_

She and Volga ambled over toward what remained of the monster. Impa had done much work in assisting to clean the area from the toxins with her magic, facilitating their path toward the aggressive, yet weakened, heads. As the two drew closer to them, Zelda took note of the red, bulbous core from beneath the plants. This must have been the base of what kept the stems together, and likely a weakness of the creature, which explained why the core was so well guarded.

Raising her rapier toward one of the heads, Volga headed for the other, thrusting the pike at the conjunction between the stem and the core. The carnivorous plant gave an ear-piercing screech, having taken a fatal blow. As both Deku heads tumbled toward the ground, its core was struck again - for a moment it almost appeared as if the heads were going to regrow themselves back, but her father stepped forth, joining them as they finally destroyed what remained of the core.

There was an implosion on the ground, the color of the smoke unnatural and similar to what the acid pool had been, and the creature disappeared, just like the conjurations of the assassins had. All that remained aside from the architectural damage it had caused to the court yard, and the scattered puddles of toxins - was a seed. A tree sapling in fact, of the creature Zelda had come to acknowledge as the Manhandla.

* * *

There was very little Volga could remember that happened after the battle. He remembered Zelda at his side, helping him climb on something, remembered stretchers (had he been on one too?) and injured humans limping or being carried around him.

He remembered warm water, which both soothed and burned at his wounds, remembered the blood and grime that washed away when he bathed, and how it was a wonder he had energy at all to stand at the time. He remembered lying on something comfortable shortly after. And then there was darkness.

"That _is_ the Dragon Knight, isn't it?"

"Din's blazes, have you seen the muscles on his arms? What does he eat that makes him so strong?!"

"Would you keep it down?" a somewhat familiar voice hissed. "You're going to wake him up. Let him rest."

Volga could hear the sound of curtains being drawn, and scurrying footsteps. He opened his eyes, adjusting to the sunlight paneling from the window, and took in his surrounding. He had been here before when he was a child, and the place looked almost exactly as he had remembered it. The main difference was that the atmosphere seemed… cozier, plants bringing color to the room. Some inside pots up against a corner, others, on top of night stands or guest tables. That and there had been paintings on the walls, less empty spaces compared to last time he had seen them.

Rows of beds were arranged throughout the room, each separated by a railing with a curtain, just as they had been before. Unlike last time, there had hardly been occupants. Now almost every bed was taken, the medical wing busier than he could recall being.

He spotted Impa, who had undoubtably been the one who had driven away the other humans. She caught his gaze. "Ah, you're awake. I hope it wasn't those people who were the cause of that. Good evening, Dragon Knight."

Evening? But it had been night time when they concluded the battle, hadn't it? Had he really been resting for a day, more even? He opened his mouth to speak, but found that his throat was rather dry. Impa pointed at a pitcher of water that had been on the night stand next to him, offering to pour him a glass, but he politely declined, attempting to pour the glass himself to bring back his sense of self-dependency.

"Zelda," he tried, voice still a bit parched, but functioning at least. "Is she alright?"

There was a pause, and the Sheikah spoke up. "She's suffered some injuries, but it could have been worse. She's currently helping our other healer treat the others who had been wounded."

"But," Volga could not stop himself. "But what about _her?_ Is she being taken care of too?"

The usual neutral or grumpy features that defined Impa's face settled on curiosity for a moment, before going back to neutral. "She will be fine. More so of course, thanks to you."

Volga felt a little abashed at his sudden outburst, and even though he very much wanted to see how the princess was doing, he settled on a quick change of subject so as not to finish their chat on such an awkward note. "Who were those humans back there?" he asked. "The ones here a moment ago."

Raising a brow at the term 'human', Impa crossed her arms in her chest. "Well. It seems…" she gave him a strange look. "You have a bit of a fan club now. You and Zelda both, actually."

Volga nearly dropped his glass at her words. Surely, she was pulling his leg. The corner of her lip twitched in amusement at his reaction. "I mean, you know. When you arrived at the ball, I asked you to remain masked, for Zelda not to find out it was you. Next thing you know, Zelda is riding on your back chasing the assassin. So much for discretion… you two couldn't have made more of a grand appearance."

She snorted. "Naturally, nearly everyone knows who you are by now, especially those at the ball. And being that both of you were the main saviors of that night, you are both being spoken of as heroes."

He could tell that even through her sarcasm, she wasn't actually too upset with what had transpired. The term _hero_ never would have fit in the same category to Volga before, so he wasn't really sure of what to make of it now.

"I didn't do it for them though," he muttered, knowing it sounded a bit selfish, but it had been the truth. "I did it for her."

"And in doing so, you have made a world of difference, Volga."

But it wasn't Impa who spoke. Startled, the Dragon Knight turned his head to face the king, who had been sitting quietly on a chair not far from him. How long the king was there, Volga did not know. "Don't worry," said the old man with a smile. "I've only been here a little bit before you woke up."

Volga tried to sit up from the bed to give him a courteous greeting, but felt a reverberating pain course through his back as he did so. He had almost forgotten what had happened to him, having been so caught up in everything else. "How are you feeling?"

Even with his wings not being present at the moment, he felt as if the expanse of his back had been blasted with canon balls, but he decided to spare her father the dramatics. He was not sure what to respond, for his mind had been in a whirl.

"Impa, if you could kindly leave Volga and I alone please?" the king requested.

"I'll be at the throne room if you need me, Your Majesty." And with that, she left the medical wing.

For awhile, Volga and the king said nothing, simply watching the other patients from the opening of his curtain. The Dragon Knight spotted Zelda from afar, who appeared to be dressed in a clean, healer's outfit, and an apron with a pocket of medical utensils, as she attended one person to the next. She caught Volga's eye and smiled, giving him a small wave. He felt his stomach flutter, and mirrored the gesture.

"She took good care of you," said the king reassuringly. "I encouraged her to get some rest soon, as she's been so busy trying to get everyone healed up. But you know how she is."

Volga frowned. "She spends so much time caring for others, and then forgets about herself. Honestly I… should have seen it coming. When she tried to save that human, you know? I could have helped her, she would have been safer too."

"You have done more for her than just about anyone ever would," he told Volga firmly. "Even Impa, as protective as her intentions are, would not have done what you did. She would have been more apprehensive. And certainly no soldier of ours would have gotten anywhere near those bullets."

He looked up at the king, who was looking at him with an expression that told of so much; gratitude, admiration… respect, even. It was not something he had ever seen the king show for him before. "Volga, I believe I owe you an apology."

Confused, Volga waited patiently for the old man to continue. "A long time ago, from when we last spoke, you told me you wanted to be a knight. And I rejected you with no hesitation, stating that we did not need a dragon hovering over our castle."

The memory, albeit vague, slowly came back to Volga. Yes, it was the day he was to leave for his trial. "And this is why I ask your forgiveness for my hasty decision, without giving you so much as a second thought. I'm not going to lie and say I still don't have some doubts about you… please understand this is mostly related to the war, not a personal issue. But after seeing what you had done for my daughter, it hit me. A dragon hovering over our castle is _exactly_ what we need right now."

Volga took a sip of the water, his mind trying to process what the king was trying to suggest. "Even Impa knows it, deep inside, that we need you. Why else would she have contacted you to attend this ball? She knew you were capable… Goddesses, you're more capable than our entire unit right now. A normal man wouldn't even be standing after what you had endured. Even less so with no armor. Speaking of which…"

The king stood up from his chair. "While we've been in the process of cleaning the castle from what had happened, I've notified my tailor and smith about the possibility of forging armor for you. Of course, it doesn't have to be right now, but whenever you've healed up, and you're feeling stronger to move around again, let Impa or Zelda know, so they can arrange for your measurements to be taken."

This had not been something Volga was expecting, no more than a 'thank you' and then sending him back home, at the very least. "Please accept this as a token of my gratitude for what you have done for us. I would also like it to serve as a means for you to consider my offer, to stay with us for some time. I would be more than happy to allow you to join our recruits, perhaps get you started on the knighthood training that you had been interested in joining. If you're still interested of course, that is?"

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. The king was asking him to stay with them for awhile, offering him to serve their kingdom, even the knight position he had always wanted. Volga's pride was conflicting right now with what he wanted however, the part of him that wanted to reject the offer, just as the king had done to him before. But he had apologized, and it was genuine, a sacrifice of the king's own pride for his sake. And of course, for the princess's sake.

"There's more," said the king, rubbing the gray hairs on his chin. "It is my understanding this was not the first time you have helped my daughter. You also risked your life for her during your trial. I was rather skeptical when she told me this story at first, thinking she was simply trying to get me to see you in a better light. But I have no doubt about it now. My offer to provide you with armor and status simply do not seem sufficient to what this means to me. I would like to extend my reward to you and take you to my vault. I have vast riches, enough to set you for life if that is what you wish. I want you to take as much as you desire."

To just about any man or woman, such a generous offer would have made them ecstatic. Even to a dragon, the thought of having ownership of treasures was a tempting thought.

"Your Majesty," said Volga, bowing his head. "I appreciate the offers you have given me, and I will be giving it some more thought. As far as me staying, if there is anything I can do to help protect Zelda, I will do what is needed. However, please keep your riches. No amount of gold will equate to what Zelda's life means to me."

* * *

The sun was nearly at the point of setting by the time Zelda finally had a chance to take a break and catch her breath from how preoccupied she had been. There was a particularly ugly wound on her shoulder from when one of the Deku heads had tried to bite her, a wound she had to try to disinfect and bandage. It was frankly an irritating wound, because it required her to frequently change her own bandage, when she already had enough on her mind to worry with the injuries of the other patients.

There were two injuries she had examined that had been the 'worst' among all the others so far. One was from the man that both she and Volga had saved, the one who had the misfortune to be snatched by the Manhandla. The plants' venomous fangs had been sharp, and if it weren't for the antidotes they had prepared in advance, the man might have had to amputate his leg. But the bite was still deep, actually having torn bone and sinew from the poor man's flesh.

Volga's was the other one. Zelda had prioritized his wings first, knowing he'd likely not want to keep them out for long by the time he woke up. They were, thankfully, not broken, but they had sustained damage wherein she had to tap into her own magic to help where medical tools could not. Zelda had done the best of her healing abilities, both physical and magic, to be able to mend together the joints and carpals of his wings.

The blows on his back had not been forgiving, even after the blood was washed from his skin. Various bruises formed, the blue-ish black hue marring the skin along his back. It was a gruesome sight, but this wasn't the reason Zelda had felt particularly affected in treating him. She felt responsible, even if the circumstances had not directly been her fault.

Her father had been speaking with Volga from the far end of the medical wing for a long time. The king could go on a tangent when he wanted to. Something that made her somewhat at ease, however, was how welcoming her father appeared to be around Volga now, compared to all the years he regarded him. There was less discomfort, less suspicions about who knew what - and a growing admiration.

This admiration became so visibly obvious to her by the time her father left the medical wing, that Zelda was rather curious as to what they had talked about. Her father did mention to her that he was interested in recruiting Volga and rewarding him for what he had done. Perhaps Volga had accepted? The thought of the dragon staying awhile brought her comfort for various reasons. For one, she had not seen him in a long time, even with their encounter at the ball, they barely had a chance to talk since they had so much going on.

She was not sure if it was still even a good time to do so… he may have been tired still. At the very least, she could check up on the progress of his healing. Yet for some reason, it felt harder to approach him now that he was awake, compared to when he had been unconscious in her care. Even with everything that had happened during the battle, the events from before the battle, and in between, had not gone away. Zelda approached him, hoping she would not make him feel as awkward as she did.

"Hi."

It was such an un-princess-like greeting, that Volga chuckled. "Good evening, Princess," he replied, the two staring back at each other for a moment. Zelda noticed he had made an attempt to sit up from the bed from when he had been interacting with her father awhile ago, but had not moved much since, likely the soreness from his back making it difficult to find a comfortable position.

"It helps to lie on your chest by the way," Zelda suggested. "That way all the pressure isn't on your back. When you sleep, I mean. You're fine right now. Do you mind if I take a look at your wounds?" her normally clear speech was slightly more clumsy than she would have liked. Why in Goddesses's name was she so nervous?

Volga did not seem as jittery with nerves as she was, or at the very least, he certainly didn't show it. "I don't mind. How are you holding up?”

How could he possibly worry for her sake when he had gone through far worse? It seemed unfair to complain or voice out that her injuries were actually bothering her. So as usual, she chose to ignore them, nodding in response, and focusing instead, on a more difficult task. To get Volga to lift his shirt so that she could inspect him.

This had been easier to do when he had been barely conscious, not to mention, her mind was hardly on anything else but the injuries at the time, rather than that she'd have her hands all over the masculine torso. It wasn't as if she had never done so before, so this shouldn't have been any different. Right?

He saved her the hassle of asking him to lift up his shirt by doing the menial task himself. Zelda honestly shouldn't have been surprised that he didn't appear uncomfortable; going around half-naked in the Eldin Caves did not seem out of the realm of possibilities, especially if the Lizalfos clan cared very little for clothing.

_I'm acting like a silly, teenage girl_ , Zelda scorned herself, which was ironic of course, since this was exactly what she was. She had been told numerous times that she had been on a maturity level closer to that of a grown woman rather than a young adult, but there were times she begged to differ.

This should not have been such a challenging check-up. Zelda took a deep, inward breath. She examined what little of his unbruised skin was left, being very careful not to touch those sensitive areas. She felt him tremble at her touch, and she worried she had touched somewhere painful. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

“You… you’re fine," he seemed to be making a great effort to distract himself from whatever was on his mind. "How bad is it?"

There wasn't really any way to sugarcoat it. The bruises were hideous, blemishing his skin, stretching upon his toned arms and back, almost in an attempt to ruin the appealing imagery. Even so, his body was a sight to behold, and she had to tear her eyes away several times other than to add herbal salve on his skin, and lightly spread them along his back.

There was a peaceful silence as she did this, a little strained at times where some distinct bruises pained him, but Zelda could tell he had been trying hard not to flinch. "You don't have to hide your pain from me," she said soothingly. "This one of all things, is my pain as well as yours. If it hadn't been for you…" she trailed off.

"Thank you, Volga," she said, feeling a strong need to get this off her chest. “I would like to express how grateful I am. I know my father has probably already offered you his rewards by now, but if there is anything you would like, anything that I can do, please tell me?"

Volga turned around to face her as she finished tending to his bruises. "Zelda, you don't need to -" he began, but he paused from his sentence, and Zelda tilted her head to where he was looking at. It had been the wound on her shoulder. The bandage that had been covering it was growing dark from fresh blood, signifying that it needed to be changed soon.

"Oh," she said tiredly. "This bite was nowhere near as bad as the one on that man's leg we had saved, but it's still a bit of a nuisance. I'll go get them changed later, easier to do so in front of a mirror so I can see where the punctures are bleeding from."

Her friend silently reached for the wrap of fresh gauze that had been on her medical tray. He scooted closer to the edge of the bed, to where her shoulder was clearly in his view, close enough to touch it. "May I help?" he asked, making sure she did not feel uncomfortable with what he wanted to do.

Zelda could feel his gaze searching her, likely noticing the circles under her eyes that she herself had not paid attention to, not when she had so much to do. It wasn't until now that she truly felt her fatigue take over her, and she was too tired to try and think of a reason as to why she would decline his question. She nodded, trying to mouth a 'thank you' again, but her words were caught in her throat.

For someone with a fist or claw strong enough to likely crack through a slab of stone - his touch was considerate and gentle. She had not felt any pain as he cleaned up her wound, not beyond what he could control, of course. Looking away from the sight of the small dots upon her skin, the puncture marks of the bite - she glanced back at Volga's face. The markings around his eyes were still prominent, but not more so than the eyes itself.

She had always seen his eyes as expressive since the day she removed his helmet. But it was even more clear to her now, his emotions were so vivid in the green depths, even if she did not understand all of them. She could see mostly concern, but there was something else too. A tenderness that seemed to hold a more complex meaning. Something she had seen in his eyes before even as a child, something she had also seen in her father's.

"Zelda?" he asked thoughtfully, as he finished patching the bandage on her shoulder. "When you said I could ask you for anything, nothing immediate came to mind. But now, I have thought about it. Would you accept my request?"

The princess blinked, then nodded. "Of course. What would you like?"

She could see that emotion in his eyes again. "Please get some rest. You've been overworking yourself, making sure everyone has been taken care of, but barely taking care of yourself."

Zelda had not been prepared for such a response and she found herself fumbling with her words. "But Volga, you and the others-"

"I've gotten plenty of rest for now, and I can manage being on my feet again. You have at least one other healer to help take care of the wounded, so they will still be attended to. But you also need to recover," he said quietly.

She knew he was right, though a part of her wanted to keep fighting sleep. Even if she did go to sleep in her bed room, who was to say the castle couldn't be under attack again? Or that the shadowy assassins wouldn't succeed in spawning in her room, and…

"Your Highness, I apologize for the interruption," one of her guards headed over to her, holding pages of parchment. He handed one of the pages to her. "I just came to report to you the progress of the clean up of the court yard, and I have an update. I'm afraid I have both good news and bad news."

Zelda's drowsiness was temporary cast away, and she looked at him in alert. "The good news is that we've gone through the entire list of attendees, and that there have been no casualties, only injuries." He sighed at the relieved look on her face. "The bad news is that… one of our men has been reported missing. Duncan was supposed to be patrolling the Clock Tower on the night of the ball. But all we found was his sword, and his body was nowhere to be found."

An ill sensation swarmed in the pit of her stomach. Duncan was one of soldiers who had been working to rank as a Hylian Captain someday. The man had a family, and dedicated to his training to give them better lives. "Father and I will write a letter of condolences to his family," said Zelda decisively, her mind trying to organize the handling of the situation. "Please arrange for our scouts to begin a search for him beyond our castle. Notify Impa for us to set up posters of his description in town, and report any updates to either one of us."

The soldier scribbled down her orders on the parchment. "General Impa has been prioritizing recruiting more soldiers over a search party. Should I raise this matter to the same level of priority?"

"Absolutely," said Zelda, and the soldier nodded, giving her a bow, before hurrying off to carry on her requests.

When he disappeared, Zelda felt an overwhelming wave of exhaustion hit her, something she had been holding for too long. She swayed slightly from where she had been standing, her vision dizzy as she felt strong hands on her middle and lower back, supporting her.

"I… I'm alright," she told him gratefully. "I just…"

"You're just overexerting yourself, and your body is finally starting to resist," he said, frowning. "Please get some sleep, Princess. This is all I ask."

Zelda could feel him guiding her out of the medical wing, her mind wanting to tell him that he shouldn't be moving much, but he was just as stubborn as she was. When they left the room, she had taken the lead from there, since he probably didn't know the direction of her bed room. He was aware enough however, to acknowledge the door to her bed room by the time they reached the area, and he paused, not wanting to intrude her privacy.

"If you need me," he said softly. "I've been asked to guard the court yard of your balcony. I suppose Impa or your father felt that it would be… easier for me to reach you from outside, being what I am, in case something happened. In case those shadows tried to spawn there."

She felt a reassurance from knowing he'd be so close, not just for the sake of her protection, but because she wanted to see him again soon. The two still didn't really get a chance to talk properly, to spend time together, when they had so much to catch up on. With a sleepy smile, she gave his hand a squeeze.

"I'm happy to have you here again, Volga."


	13. Water

Oak and honeysuckle.

Those had been the scents that had lingered in her mind for days. She had not been aware of much else during that time, but the more clarity that returned to her conscious, the more she was starting to familiarize with the earthly atmosphere around her. There was a remote buzzing of bees and echoes of chirping that had been chiming in with various birds. Had she been outside?

But no, that couldn't be right. Whatever it was that she had been lying on, and the material of the fabric that was draped over her body - it felt too sheltered to have been out in the open. The sound of running water and dishes being moved around, the aroma of boiled chicken, and steamed vegetables, dabbed with herbal spices… her stomach growled. Yes, she was definitely in someone's home.

"Link, would you turn off the sink?"

_Link?_

Quite certain she had been going hysterical, she woke with a start. Like the color of lilacs blossoming in the spring, her eyes were met with the sight of polished wood. This wood must have been the oak she was associating with, and it was everywhere; on the ceiling, the walls, and on the floor. The furniture categorized into even more variations of wood; the small couches and chairs looked to be made of birch, the tables and shelves shaped from elm, as well as the very bed she was resting on. Her fingers smoothed over the texture of the wool blanket, and then to her own clothing. It was a hand-knitted sweater that was so long, that it extended beyond her wrists and waist.

"Oh look what you've done," the woman's voice she had heard from before complained. "The water must have woken her up. Don't worry, young lady, I've just finished preparing chicken and vegetable stew. And my nephew squeezed some fresh oranges, so the juice will be sweet and tangy. How are you feeling?”

Her mind exploded with questions, but she did not know where to begin. "I don't know," she answered. "Who… who are you? And where am I?"

The stranger was a woman who looked to be around her middle-ages, possibly older. Her hair was a mousse brown, frizzy, with tinges of gray on her hairline. She was slightly chubby, rosy cheeks complimenting her smile, which gave her the appearance of having a kind face.

"My name is Jillian," she said, setting down a bowl of soup and baked bread on the night stand next to the bed. "But everyone just calls me Jill. You're in the Faron Woods, in one of the villages. The Deku Village, to be precise. Please, have something to eat."

She stared at the steam from the soup before her, too disoriented to indulge with a more civil conversation. "How did I end up here?" she asked in a small voice.

Jillian glanced at her kitchen, to where a young man had appeared from, dressed in a beige blouse and gray slacks, his blond hair disheveled as if he had just gotten out of bed. "My nephew here found you unconscious further in the Faron Woods," the woman explained. "He brought you here so we could take care of you. You've been with us for awhile now. Let me introduce you to him. This is Link. Link, this is…" she trailed off uncertainly, looking at her for an answer.

The sorceress knew that there was no way she could hide the flabbergasted expression from her face. Was this another one of her aspiring dreams? Were the goddesses trying to punish her, for having allowed some mysterious force enter her conscious? She could barely recall what happened at the time, but she knew one thing: she was _not_ the same person she was. Whatever had remained of her, she did not know, and she was scared to find out.

Therefore, at this time, she wanted nothing to do with her title, Guardian of Time. She settled with the nickname she had been given as a child, the nickname she had heard during her more innocent years.

"My name is Lana."

"Well it's nice to meet you, Lana," said Jillian pleasantly. Link was about to formulate some kind of greeting, when a knock from the door made all three of them jump. "I'm coming, I'm coming," she said, grabbing a ring of keys that had been hanging on a pin against the wall.

Lana sat up from the bed, her hand, without thinking, searching for her staff, but it was nowhere to be seen. There was an armored soldier at the doorway, bearing the emblem of Hyrule's family crest. "May I help you, Sir?" said Jillian anxiously, opening the door a little wider, but not quite all the way.

He held up a poster, but Lana could not see what was on it from where she had been sitting. "I'm sure you must have heard of the incidents that had occurred during the night of the Masquerade Festival almost a week ago."

"Yes, I have," said Jillian solemnly. "I'm sorry to hear of that terrible ordeal. Has the culprit been caught yet?"

The man's face turned glum. "No, the culprit behind the attacks has not been caught yet, but we're still investigating. I came here however, to ask if anyone has seen this man. His name is Duncan and he's been missing since that night." He pointed to the fine print on the poster that detailed his physical description. "We've already asked everyone in Hyrule Castle Town, and now we're expanding our search beyond there."

Jillian and Link shook their heads. "I'm afraid I have not heard of, or seen this man," she replied. "I'm sorry."

He sighed. "I expected as much. If you see or hear anything regarding his whereabouts, please contact your local courier, or any of our soldiers, as soon as you can. Thank you for your time."

And with that, he left. Jillian closed the door behind her, rereading the poster as she went to take a seat on her chair. "By the Deku Tree's gnarly roots, who would do such a thing? Not just an assassination attempt among a crowd of innocent people, but to set loose a monster like that? Where did this monster come from anyway? What kind of monster simply vanishes after being slain, leaving nothing of its body behind?"

_The kind of monster that has been conjured_ , Lana thought, feeling a growing unease.

"Aunt Jill," said Link, speaking for the first time. His voice was humbly low, but not deep. "I've been thinking. Ever since those attacks, I've been seeing more announcements for those who want to enlist in the Hylian army. If I could join their recruits -"

The woman's friendly demeanor turned livid, and she instantly cut him off before he could continue. "Absolutely not. They have sufficient men right now, and I'm sure they'll be having some more soon. You are too young to be throwing your life for blood."

"But -"

" _No_ , Link. You already have that post man job that you will be starting out tomorrow. You like to travel, and you're light on your feet. This is the ideal position for you," she gave a fervent nod, agreeing with herself. "Now, where and when are you supposed to be meeting with the boss who will brief you over the duties of a courier?"

"The North Field Ranch at sun rise," Link grumbled. "The owner of the ranch will be doing the briefing, and if it all goes well, I will also be able to use one of their horses."

"I'm sure it will all work out," said his aunt, looking more cheery now.

Still displeased but choosing not to argue, Link faced the bookshelf, picking up a large tome that had been aloof from the rest of the books. "By the way," he said, turning to Lana. "When I found you, I found this. This was all you had in your possession."

Lana's eyes widened as he addressed her, for she was used to spectating events, rather than being present during them. As Link handed her the book, she noticed, upon closer inspection, that it was the Book of Sorcery, her spell book that used to sit on top of the same table as her crystal ball. If this was all Link found on her, this could only mean…

_I will separate you into two. Your weaker side will be cast away, as a separate being, into the depths of this forest, far away from here. And your stronger side, will be safe with me. Together, we will share your body._

As that commanding voice replayed itself in her memory, she curled her fingers tightly over the cover of the book that now sat on her lap.

She had surmised that her… other half must have kept her staff, while Lana acquired her spell book. Somehow, she did not feel like this was a good trade. Her staff had been her source of power. It wasn't that she needed a staff to be able to cast spells, it was because her spells were not as strong without it. But that had been the point, hadn't it? She was meant to be the weaker side.

"I found this too," said Link, noticing her disappointed expression. At first Lana wasn't sure what it was that he was trying to show her. It was an article of clothing that had been folded, and as Lana unfolded it, she began to recognize the patterns, the soft orchid and white hues of what had once been her Guardian of Time outfit, was now torn.

Jillian pointed to a long cut on the side of the attire. "If you look here, this doesn't appear to be an ordinary rip. This cut is symmetrical, almost as if intended to be cut perfectly in half." She furrowed her eyebrows worriedly. "Tell me, Lana, do you remember anything that had happened to you before you woke up today? I can understand if you do not wish to share anything too personal, but please know that we want to help you. Do you remember anyone… trying to attack you at any point?"

Lana bit her lip. "I don't remember much. Anyone trying to attack me? I don't…" she hesitated, not knowing how to continue. Link set down the glass of orange juice next to her soup, exchanging a look with his aunt.

"Let's just give her some time," he suggested. "She hasn't been awake long, and you're already bombarding her with questions."

The woman gave Lana an apologetic expression. "Oh you're absolutely right, Link. I'm terribly sorry. I did not mean to impose. Now don't mind this rattling old lady, and have some food. You've barely been able to put anything in your mouth without Link trying to feed you mouthfuls when you were unconscious."

"Aunt Jill," Link whined, running a hand through the back of his hair. "You don't need to go into details."

* * *

Even after Lana had finished the meal given to her, even after they offered her a quaint guest room for her to sleep in, she still couldn't believe this was real. She was reluctant at the idea of going to sleep, of waking up back in her manor, back to those dominating whispers in her head and maddening loneliness.

She glared at her reflection in the mirror. Her short, lavender hair was a… problem, to say the least. If she was to truly try and separate herself from what she had been, this was the first change she would have to make.

Lana thumbed through the pages of her spell book, trying to find the section that covered appearance and alterations. Taking her time to make sure she properly understood the instruction of the spell, she grabbed a handful of her hair, holding them by the ends.

As if pulling invisible strands, she carefully began to stretch her hair, a blue glow surrounding her fingertips as she did so. The tresses grew longer and longer - until they brushed along the middle of her back. Satisfied with the length, she returned back to her book, her finger trailing down the page.

She stopped on the drawing of a diagram that contained circles of every basic color, the name of the color, and the spell for each. The basic colors branched into a category called advanced colors, which basically contained more variations of colors. The more complicated the color, the more complicated the spell.

But which one to choose for her hair?

Blonde was tempting, for it would strike a resemblance to the princess she had always been so envious of. On the other hand, a reddish or copper hue could have matched with the snarky and playful nature of Midna, the Spirit of the Hero's questionably close companion from the Twilight Era. She experimented with various tones, and grimaced, deciding that she did not want to stick to a natural pigment.

When her hair settled on a teal blue, there was a soft tap on her door. Regardless of whether or not this had been the room offered to her, this wasn't _her_ room, so she had no right to reject anyone from coming in.

"Come in," she said distractedly, snapping shut her book. She watched the reflection of her door from the mirror as Link stepped inside, and she immediately looked away, afraid that if she didn't, she would stare shamelessly and unsettle him. "Oh, hello… Link." Still not used to using his name to the actual owner, rather than in context, the name sounded foreign from her lips.

Link looked a bit puzzled at her change of appearance, but to her relief, he did not question her. He was holding a stack of clothing, and set it on her dresser. "Aunt Jill went through her closet to find some smaller clothes of hers. She washed and ironed them for you. There's… some clothing of mine as well that don't fit me anymore, like that sweater you're wearing. I can understand if you don't want to wear those, but I figured you would like to have more options. If you need anything, just let either one of us know."

"Thank you, that's very kind of both of you," said Lana. She did not mention to Link that she had planned on creating a couple of outfits for herself with her spells, or well, it didn't seem like the appropriate thing to say at the moment. Those spells were a challenge, and would take more time for her to research. 

"Lana?"

"Yes?" she said quickly. A little too quickly.

Link leaned his body against her door frame, surveying her with interest. "Do you know me from somewhere?"

_No, I've only known of you across the ages and time_ , she thought sarcastically. "What makes you say that?"

He slumped his shoulders. "I don't know. You seemed really surprised to see me when we were introducing ourselves. I'm not sure how to explain it, but it was like there was familiarity in your eyes." He looked thoughtful for a moment, then continued. "I wondered if you were like me in that way."

"What do you mean?" said Lana curiously. He had her full attention now.

Link seemed to be contemplating on how to express his thoughts to her in a way that made sense. "Sometimes, I'll come across something or even someone, that I feel as if I've known from somewhere before. I'm not sure from where or when - it’s as if I've went through experiences that I have no memory of," he gave a lopsided grin. "Sorry, I probably sound a bit strange to you."

Nonplussed, Lana tried to remain collected over the eagerness that swept over her, at the implications and possibilities of what Link's explanation could mean. "It could just be déjà vu," she said calmly. "Was there anything in particular that stood out to you?"

"Several," said Link, counting them with his fingers. "The Deku Tree, for instance, that sits right outside my aunt's home. Even that creature they are calling the Manhandla, when I saw the description, I felt it too. I just think… maybe I could do something useful with these connections."

"Is this why you're interested in joining the Hylian recruits?"

He made an unenthusiastic sound. "I dislike fighting." Now _this_ was unheard of. This was the figure who had been the very epitome of fighting throughout history.

"But I'm good at it," he grunted. "Picking up a sword to me is as natural as drinking water."

"If you dislike it," Lana reasoned. "Why go through the trouble, then?"

She felt perhaps, that she was digging into areas that would be more personal, and she was about to retract her question, when Link responded.

"Because this world is precious to me," he said simply. "My aunt, the villagers, and that which is beyond the Faron Woods. I may not know much about our history or the past wars, but if something was to happen to these lands, I want to be out there to protect it. Aunt Jill may have refused the idea of me joining the recruits, but I promise you… if news of more threats reach my ears, that will be the first thing I will do."

There it was. Those traits she had seen in the soul of the Spirit of the Hero for countless generations. The traits she coveted… and the traits she despised.

* * *

The week that followed the Masquerade Festival did not cease to astonish Volga. Everywhere he went that included humans in the vicinity, he would frequently be intersected in the hallways and from his daily activities. The humans would greet him, praise his battling prowess, sometimes they even bowed - looking up to him as if he had been some kind of deity. Was this what it was like to be treated as a hero? He always assumed it would get irritating after awhile, but he found… that it wasn't really all that bad.

Or well, maybe his ego climbed up a few notches.

"I think you like the attention," Zelda teased, as she, Impa, and him walked down the corridor together. They had been on their way to visit the tailor and smith the king had requested. Zelda had managed to convince Volga to have sturdy armor forged for him, likely cause she didn't want him to take that kind of damage again, whether it was for her cause or otherwise.

"But they just come to me," Volga made a growling huff. "I never knew I had the potential to be so approachable."

"Mhm hm," said Zelda cheekily. "To be honest though, I think it's a nice change of pace. You've been shunned too much in the past… and it's about time for them to see you in a more positive perspective."

"What _would_ be nice," Impa groused. "Is if we can make it to the workshop, without being stopped in our tracks every ten steps."

This wasn't entirely an exaggeration. It wasn't even two minutes before they had spun around in the corner, not far from the medical wing - when an adult male wearing a noble suit, hobbled toward them. He was using a pair of wooden crutches to support his weight. Nearly his entire right leg was covered in a hard, white wrap. It was the human that Volga and Zelda had rescued from the Manhandla.

He removed his top hat, tipping it in a courteous greeting. "It is an honor to be in your presences," he said gratefully. "I would have lost my leg, or worse, if it weren't for your actions. I cannot thank you two enough for saving my life. May the goddesses forever smile upon you."

Saying _you're welcome_ were two words Volga had never used much until this past week. Yes, he had studied enough about human behavior and court etiquette, far more, perhaps than the average cave dweller would. But despite everything, he was still not used to being treated with such respect from humans. So the manners did not always come naturally to him.

"I hate to interrupt," said Impa impatiently. "But we all have much to do. I haven't even started my own schedule of the day."

When they finished their exchange and bid good-bye, Volga and Zelda picked up the pace behind Impa. They passed by a few servants who had been cleaning the windows and supervising a small group of children. Every head turned in their direction, as the children gasped and pointed at them. Before the servants could even say anything, the children dashed toward Volga and Zelda.

"Oh for -" Impa muttered under her breath, trying to refrain herself from swearing in front of them.

"Volga, right?" one of the little boys asked. A girl next to him held up a notepad and quill, and she spoke up eagerly. "And the princess too! Oh please, _please_ sign your names for us?"

"Look, kids, we have to go," said Impa, and when sadness and disappointment displayed on their faces, she sighed. "You'll have to catch them some other time. We have very important matters -"

Zelda kneeled in front of the children, the trace of a smile gracing her lips. "Impa, it's alright," she said decisively. "We'll make time for them. Here, let me see that notepad."

Something about the sight made Volga content in a way he could not really comprehend.

He had seen her interact with children before, and seeing it again led to an intriguing observation. Volga noticed that when she was in the company of most adults, her smiles took more effort, and her rigid posture signified her tension. Since her eyes were not easy to read, he could tell by the movement of her lips, and how she breathed. Her bottom lip would tighten when she was anxious, and her breathing would come out in subtle, but uneven rasps when she was stressed.

With children however, she appeared more at ease. Her shoulders were relaxed, likely from not feeling as much pressure. And her smile was natural, not a mask meant to please the public, but by her own will to do so. It was a rare sight, but one he enjoyed seeing more of.

When it had been his turn to sign, he took the quill and peered down at the notepad. There, was the ink of Zelda's elegant signature. Images of two children studying in a dim, candle-lit room flashed back from his memory.

_"What is the first word you would like to learn?"_

_"Zelda. I would like to learn how to write your name."_

Without even knowing it, Volga had scribbled his name next to hers, then handed the notepad and quill back to the pleased children.

* * *

To avoid further interruptions, Impa walked so fast, that they nearly began to jog to keep up with her. They finally made it to the workshop, and stood before the door. There was a sign hanging from a nail that read, _Hammer and Needle_ , displaying the design of a hammer and needle criss-crossing each other, a thread wrapped around them. Impa knocked on the door, seeming apprehensive, even though they had reached their destination.

"I just hope that powdered clown hasn't misplaced her needle in her curls," said Impa with gritted teeth, as they all waited.

Volga cast Zelda a questioning look. "I take it she doesn't like this human very much?"

"I swear, these two suddenly reverse in aging when they bicker," said Zelda, shaking her head. "They detest each other. Impa usually tries to avoid stepping foot in this shop whenever she can."

Volga wondered vaguely if this was why Impa seemed particularly moody today. The Sheikah crossed her arms in her chest. "I don't mind her husband," she interjected. "He's logical and level-headed. But her -"

The door opened, and the most eccentric human woman Volga had ever seen stepped forward. Her wild, red curls bounced as she adjusted her headband. A headband with a… pin cushion that was somehow attached stylishly to the side. She was very pale, the powder on her skin giving her the semblance of a porcelain doll. Her dark eye-liner was thick, and made a loop at the corner of her eyes. She clapped her hands once in front of her with unrestrained enthusiasm.

"It's great to see you again, Princess. You look lovely as always. You could still use a little sun on your skin though, sweetheart," she advised.

Impa drummed her fingers along her still-crossed arms. "The princess doesn't exactly have the time to be sun bathing, unlike you. Not that it would matter anyway, since you'd just rub make-up all over your skin."

As if the woman hadn't heard her, she turned to greet Volga. Gold glimmered on her eyelashes and eyeshadow when she blinked, her burgundy painted lips slightly open in awe. "And you must be the Dragon Knight we've heard so much about. I mean, my husband and I saw you at the Masquerade Festival, but I never actually had the honor to speak with you until now. My name is Lady Eveline. I am the tailor and enchantress of this castle, and well… the best one in Hyrule."

Volga heard Impa make incoherent noises from her throat, and he doubted it was anything pleasant.

"Is that them, honey?" a human man called out from the room. "Hang on, I'm coming."

It was only a few seconds and some mechanical noises in the background, before the human showed up to speak with them. Black hair clung to his forehead, likely from how hard he had been working, his trimmed beard moving with his mouth when he spoke.

"The name's Sir Martel, owner of this workshop. I'm in charge of forging armor, and I also specialize in sculpturing. My wife handles the measuring, designs, and enchanting. It's a pleasure."

Unlike his wife, he did not wear anything outlandish, but his attire was not as fancy as typical noble wear. This made sense, since he was a smith, and getting something such as coal stains on his clothing was to be expected. He wore a simple blacksmith apron over a brown shirt and dark slacks. There were pockets on the apron, filled with wrenches, nails, a hammer, and other tools.

Once the greetings were established, the couple motioned for them to enter the workshop. Eveline's pumpkin orange robes swiveled when she turned around, and the three of them followed her inside.

The place was one of the more unusual rooms he had seen in the castle. For one, it was a private shop, specialized to serve the castle, and not out in the market place, where most of the land's economy ran business at.

About half of the room contained shelves packed with thread rolls and colored yarns, sacks of cotton, boxes of fabric that ranged from silk, velvet, and more. There were mannequins with labels along the arms, neck, and waist. Sketchbook pages hung on the wall, displaying various designs, both clothing and armor.

The other half of the room contained forging equipment; a grindstone to sharpen weapons, a work bench with an anvil and hammer in front of it, an active smelter with trays of assorted ore. Finally, there was a tanning rack at the corner and a table next to it covered with pieces of leather and furs.

"Well," said Eveline, gesturing for them to commence at her area first. "Let us begin."

* * *

"Hold still for just a few minutes longer," said Eveline, her brows pinched together with the utmost focus as she wrapped the tape measure around Volga's upper arm, before jotting down numbers on the labels of a male mannequin.

Impa made a disgruntled sound. "We've been here for almost twenty minutes. My soldiers have been expecting me since this morning. How much longer is it going to take?"

Eveline shot Impa a scowl. "I'm sorry, dear. But there is much of him to measure, you see. If you can't possibly wait another half an hour, I suggest you go see your soldiers then. This type of work takes time and creativity. I'm not going to rush this down with only half of my effort, just so you can go around swinging your barbaric weapons sooner."

It was as if electricity bolted in the air.

"Our _barbaric_ weapons is why you get to wave your fingers, and flaunt your ridiculous nail polishes," Impa retorted.

"At least I would have nails to flaunt."

"Ladies, ladies," Martel put his hands out in front of him in exasperation.

Zelda looked at them crossly from where she was also being attended to. Since they already had her most recent measurements still with them, the tailor only needed to create a design for her. "Why don't you two calm down?"

When it looked like neither Eveline or Impa would back down, the Sheikah finally conceded. "Fine," she said, heading for the door. "This is just taking too much time. Volga, whenever you're done here, join the soldiers at the training ground. I will be having a quick practice session with you. Princess, don't forget to train the court mages at noon."

After she had left, Eveline sighed. "What is that woman's issue anyway? I've been saying this for years, but she really needs to find someone to give her some adventure under the sheets -"

"Eveline!" Zelda scolded, looking embarrassed, amused, and annoyed all at once. Volga had to cough the chortle he had been trying to hold back.

"But it's true!" the tailor pressed on. "You would think a little romance might cheer her up. She's always so grumpy and uptight. And she never trusts anyone." Then she gave a guilty sigh. "I suppose I can't blame her entirely. After what happened to her best friend and everything."

Volga looked bewildered, as the tailor placed the tape measure around her neck, adding a few more numbers to her labels. "What, you haven't heard?" she said in surprise.

He shook his head, and the tailor glimpsed at Zelda and her husband, making sure neither looked against her continuing. When no one said anything, Eveline took their silence as a hesitant approval.

"It was a long time ago, before the current king's generation even," she said, lowering her voice. "Impa is quite old, you see. We do not even know how old she is exactly. But she's been exposed to more experiences than any of us, so she's far more… affirmative with how she holds herself, and how she views others."

"Anyway," she proceeded, taking a massive sketchpad, and a thin piece of charcoal that was made for drawing. "Impa had a close friend that worked in the castle with her. He was the court wizard, and the king's advisor. He worked here several years, and from what's been said, the two had practically been inseparable. Some speculated that they were lovers, others said they were only friends. But… she was betrayed."

From the corner of his eye, Volga noticed Zelda's face was downcast, clearly having known of this story and disheartened at the direction it was heading toward. He felt an inexplicable urge to take her hands in his.

"The corruption of the Ultimate Power, the Triforce, has continued to smear blood throughout time," said Eveline darkly. "The wizard had become obsessed with obtaining this relic, and he used their friendship as a means of getting closer to the Royal Family. Since he ended up becoming the king's advisor, he had gained much of his trust. But the king eventually began to see through him, and when the wizard asked him for the Triforce one day, he refused him. The king was found dead three days later."

An uncomfortable silence fell between everyone, as Eveline quietly began her sketch, peering at Volga as she did so, outlining his body frame. "There was never any proof found that the king was murdered by him, so people could only speculate. Before that even happened, Impa had offered the wizard a place among the Sheikah. Whether or not he officially became one, only Impa knows."

"What happened to him?" Volga asked.

"He died," Eveline's husband answered, who had only been listening up until this point. "But there had been accounts stating that he was searching for magic that would help him sustain life after death. No one really knew the manner of his death, but the rumors pointed to Impa herself being the one to kill him. Do you remember the commotion with the ring from years ago? The one at the graveyard, where a Goron Captain had to come here to take the ring to be buried elsewhere?"

The Dragon Knight nodded. That had been the day Zelda found out about his dragon form.

"Well, it was believed that the wizard had been buried in that very same graveyard."

Eveline placed her materials to the side, and stood up. "Alright," she said, trying to liven the energy in the room. "That's enough morbid chatter for now, let's move onwards to the next step. I have measurements for the both of you, so what I must decide next is the style I want to go for."

Volga didn't say much for awhile as the tailor began to make a list of ideas, sometimes making a quick sketch along the side for a visual run-through. He wondered how much of the story was accurate and if it was - if this was one of the reasons why Impa was the way she was. He felt like he could understand her general mistrust a little better now. And could she really have been friends with that wizard, possibly lovers? Where was the fine line between friendship and love?

"I think I have just the thing in mind," said Eveline, an inspired glint in her eyes as she surveyed Volga and Zelda closely. "Your outfits from the Masquerade Festival."

The blacksmith scratched his head. "But love, those are all shredded up from their battle, and no armor aside from the couple of pieces on the princess's dress."

"Exactly," said his wife brightly. "We will use the armored parts of her dress, give them a nice upgrade, but redesign the actual dress for battle purposes. For one, the hem of her dress would have to be shorter," she fiercely began to draw her idea onto her sketchbook. "The reason for this is because her typical dress tends to reach her feet, and this wouldn't be practical for fighting. She needs to be able to move her legs at a constant pace, without worrying about tripping over the hem. I think having two slits for each leg might also facilitate her movement."

Zelda leaned in to watch her draw. "Wouldn't my legs be a little revealing?" she asked, her voice almost shy.

Eveline laughed heartily, and shook her head. "My dear, you have nothing to worry about. There will be an underskirt for you, right below your waist, and your boots will be almost knee-length, so there won't be _that_ much exposure of your skin. Besides," she gave a naughty wink. "You have a birthday coming up in a few days. With you becoming of age, and men already fawning over you, this will further appeal them. Never forget the woman's ability to attract. It can be be just as potent as any weapon."

If there was one thing Volga could agree on with this human, this was one of them.

"Come to think of it," Martel mused. "Aren't we supposed to be receiving a batch of new recruits tomorrow, or a few days before her birthday? I was told most of them were from other kingdoms, and had some ties with noble blood from the likes of counts, dukes, and more."

His wife nodded, as she worked the corset and sleeves of the rough draft for Zelda's battle raiment. "Indeed. You know what this means? Most of those men will likely want to court you, Your Highness. I wouldn't be surprised if competition rose among them to see who can impress you the most."

Zelda sighed."I must confess, I haven't really had much time to dwell on such matters."

"But you know, it will only be a matter of time before the subject of matrimony comes up," Eveline chattered on energetically. "Your father will likely want to expand our alliances soon, and marriage could persuade some more parties to join. With the man you would want, of course."

Volga looked down at his hands. Back when Amusei and Jules had mentioned royal marriage, and how Zelda would inevitably have to distance herself from her friendship with him, Volga had felt something similarly painful. That familiar fear was rekindled, and became something more. It was akin to envy, when he'd imagine how fortunate a prince was to be able to betroth a princess. And now, the thought of seeing those new recruits tomorrow, or any human attempt to court Zelda for that matter - irked him.

Their voices had become muffled for a few minutes, and Lady Eveline had to repeat her question a few times before his attention returned to the present situation. "Sorry," he said, his voice a bit harsher than he had expected. "What did you ask me again?"

"I asked if you liked the idea of wearing a dragon's skull as a helmet," the tailor said promptly.

"I still don't think a dragon would exactly enjoy wearing bones of his kind. It'd be like us trying to make skeleton armor for ourselves," said Martel dismissively.

Eveline rolled her eyes. "It wouldn't be an _actual_ dragon skull, darling. The helmet would need to be sculptured as a replica of a dragon's skull."

Volga took a seat, exhaling silently. "My clan and mentor have a great fondness for Volvagia. If there was any dragon I would replicate something from, it would be him."

She scribbled this on her notes, and began to circle around him, her sketchbook in hand. "The red you wore to the ball suited you perfectly, I believe I will make red the primary color for your armor. It embodies power and passion, and you give off those vibes."

"And then," she went on, adding more notes. "I want to add some interesting touches to the upper plate, and shoulders. I think… yes, we can try having the armor around your shoulders imitate dragon wings. I shall definitely enchant your armor too. I will need to find a way for your armor to readjust to when you change forms, and perhaps a way for you to be able to store heat, which could help you when you unleash fire. These enchantments will take some time to arrange."

"Love, I believe we've kept them here long enough for today. I'm sure you two have much to do," said Martel. "We will commence with what we have for now, and keep you updated with our progress."

Eveline finished sketching for the moment. "Yes, you're probably right, we didn't mean to keep you both here for so much time. But Volga, there is something I've been meaning to ask you. You've probably had this question asked many times."

Volga looked at her expectingly, and she continued. "Well, I've always wondered. How is it that someone like you, and who has been raised in a cave for a portion of your life - is so well-cultured? Please, do not see this as an insult, I'm frankly impressed, and curious. Sometimes, you have better manners than other royal families who have visited our kingdom. It couldn't have been easy to take the time to research and teach yourself, living among the Lizalfos. So why did you do it?"

"It wasn't easy, no," said Volga, remembering how frequently his clan would try to discourage him from bothering with studying. "But just because you may not be good at something initially, it doesn't mean you can't try to improve. My motivation for improving was what kept me going," he said, his eyes briefly meeting blue. "And still is."

* * *

Throughout the day, Zelda found her mind wandering, particularly when she was alone. By the time she was done with her tasks, she was relieved to be back in her bed room. Even after her visit at _Hammer and Needle_ , she had spent time managing important paperwork for her kingdom, had her usual battle session, and then she had to train the court mages on how to build stronger wards around the castle. This didn't even account for all the other people she had to contend with that demanded her attention.

And then Volga… she did not know how to voice it, exactly. Sometimes it was in the way he looked at her, or when they spoke. There was something strangely alluring about him, something that made her heart flutter when he was in her presence. She thought at first, that this was normal… she had just been reunited with her friend, after all. But it had been a week already, and these foreign feelings were only growing stronger. 

_But just because you may not be good at something initially, it doesn't mean you can't try to improve…_

Her eyes fixated upon the storage trunk at the foot of her bed. The trunk was shaped like a treasure chest, with a lock between the bottom and the lid. Zelda inserted the key into the lock, and opened it. There, on top of a few other personal possessions, was her harp. She hadn't played it in years.

Whether it was Volga's words that inspired her, or something else - she felt a desire to relive the sounds of music from her harp. She wondered if she should bother with placing a silence ward around her walls, in case anyone would hear. She wanted to play, but was hesitant at the idea of anyone listening. With a soft sigh, she carried her harp in her arms, and opened the glass doors to her balcony.

The sky was cloudless tonight, a steel blue and gray stretched across the horizon. Light from the half-moon illuminated her court yard, keeping company to the shadows. She spotted one of her guards from afar, heading inside the castle to finish his shift for the day. She saw the long leaves of her willow tree dance with the breeze, like a flowing curtain. And beneath this tree, from where a guard post was located, was Volga.

He was leaning his back against the tree trunk, his body mostly concealed by a black cape over his Hylian uniform. His dragon pike was next to him, and every once in awhile he would scan the area, weapon in hand. Ever since he had been given the guard post outside her balcony, she had an easier time sleeping. Sometimes she'd step out to her balcony to bid him goodnight before she went to sleep.

"Volga," she called out to him, audible enough for him to hear, but so that others would not, if they happened to be in the area.

The Dragon Knight looked up, blond hair almost silver from the lighting. He greeted her, and she felt an unusual giddiness inside her that she did not dare show. But it must have caught on to her voice, because when she spoke up again, she did not sound as formal and refined as she often did.

"Do you think you can," she said timidly. "Do you think you can come up here?"

She couldn't see the look on his face from the height she was in, but she knew he must have been confused. "Up there?" he asked. "Are you sure?"

The princess nodded, and though Volga seemed hesitant at first, he complied with her request. Using his wings, he half-flew, half-climbed the tree, perching upon a thick branch that faced her balcony, close enough for them to have a conversation, but far enough so that he wasn't in her balcony space. Not that she would have minded, but this would do for now.

Zelda saw his gaze swivel toward her harp. He had noticed - of course he had noticed. "I," she began, looking down at the instrument in her arms. "I'm not sure why I brought this. I feel like playing but…"

"You're still afraid of playing in front of others," he finished for her. It was amazing how he could sometimes seemingly read her thoughts. There were times that Impa, and not even her father, would be able to see through her.

She cracked a laugh. "At this point, I think it's even worse, since I haven't practiced in years."

"Is it something you love?" he asked, his eyes locking with hers. 

For a moment, Zelda thought she wouldn’t be able to speak. She was not sure if it was the intensity of the effect in how he had asked her that, or if the question itself struck her into wonder. 

Zelda brushed her fingers lightly on a single string, but without enough of a tug to emit a sound. She already knew exactly what sound it would make. She remembered the notes of the songs she had been taught, had studied the music sheets frequently in private, even though she could never bring herself to play. Impa and her father had probably long forgotten that she had been interested in the harp.

"I do," she said with certainty. "It was one of the very few things I had to help me keep my mind off all the qualms here at home. It's a bit like reading a story you become immersed in. The music notes are like the text of the story. The plot and characters are the sounds - the music itself. They can move the readers, or turn them away."

Volga shifted slightly on the branch. "You're worried you'll turn them away."

Zelda felt rather foolish for displaying such a mundane weakness of hers, when there were more pressing fears to be concerned about. She spun to face her room, considering putting away her harp back in her treasure chest, when Volga spoke up.

"Princess," he said warmly. "Play for me."

She froze, her back to him from where she stood. "I remember what you told me long ago," he continued. "About the prince who turned away when he heard you play, when you wanted to impress him. I won't turn away. Don't worry about what the others think right now. It's just you and me."

Turning to face him, her hands clasped at the column of her harp. There was a sincerity in the way he had said that, in the way he was looking at her now. He actually wanted her to play, to pursue something she was passionate about.

"I… won't be very good at this," she admitted. Why did this all seem so familiar to her? This was like when they had danced, hadn't it? She had been uncertain at first, not having danced in a long time, but Volga had encouraged her then. And he was encouraging her now.

"Better than I would," he said, smirking. "Don't worry about _how_ it sounds. Think of what you _feel_ when the sounds are produced from your fingertips."

Zelda positioned the harp accordingly, her fingers skimming over the strings. She tentatively plucked the first note, the sound quietly reverberating in the air with wavering determination. Were the sounds really reflecting upon how she felt? Was this why she had played so poorly in front of that prince long ago? She never had any particular attachment to him, only a childish urge to impress.

Closing her eyes, she allowed the music to flow through her, the notes not perfect, but gentle. She imagined a lake, reflecting the sky at dusk. Every now and then, the wind would breathe over the water's surface, creating ripples, like goosebumps reacting to a lover's touch. The calm waves of an ancient song coursed through her.

_Time passes, people move... Like a river's flow, it never ends... A childish mind will turn to noble ambition... Young love will become deep affection... The clear water's surface reflects growth. Now listen to the Serenade of Water to reflect upon yourself…_

_\- Sheik (Ocarina of Time)_

A smile formed at her lips, and she felt serenity. "What do you think of it so far?"

She opened her eyes and saw Volga, his expression was utterly indiscernible, but when he spoke, his voice was almost breathless.

"You… that," his normally smooth speech could not narrow down the words he wanted to say. “It was like you were able to put everything aside, and become lost in another world. You looked so relaxed, and it reflected on the notes. It was… peaceful.”

And then… they both noticed it. There was a bubble floating near her, but it was not caused from natural means. “What is that?” he asked curiously. “Is that magic?”

"I think," said Zelda excitedly. "Volga, I think this was caused from the song I played. You see, my old music instructor told me that there was power in certain songs. I always thought she meant that as a metaphor." The bubble drifted away into the sky. "I have yet to find out what it does, but perhaps if I practiced more, I can find out."

The Dragon Knight grinned. "This is all the more reason for you to play more often."

"I feel happy," she said, watching him appreciatively. "You have no idea what you've done for me tonight."

"If this makes you happy, Princess," he assured her. "I would be honored to be here to listen to you play anytime you wish.”

* * *

Impa walked in to the sight of books piled all over the king's study, and scrolls scattered across his desk. She could barely even see the king sitting in his chair, due to how high the tower of books had reached. "Your Majesty," she said worriedly. "Are you alright? It's rather late, aren't you tired?"

The King of Hyrule sighed as he put down one of the books, _Hyrule's Bestiary_. He massaged the sides of his temples, only now noticing the headache that had formed there. "I was hoping I could find more information on the Manhandla, and those shadow assassins."

"Ah," Impa acknowledged. "Have you found anything?"

"Not much," he said wearily. "But the clothing those assassins wore are so similar to the clothing the Spirit of the Hero wore, from other eras, most notably the headwear. That scarf, however, is not something I've seen before. If only their bodies hadn't disappeared, I would have been able to inspect their clothing more closely. Zelda believes they were summoned, and I'm starting to believe it too."

Impa took a bottle of wine, two glasses, and poured him a modest amount. She then filled one for herself, and brought the rim to her lips. "Do you not find it strange that the Guardian of Time gave no warning of this?" she quipped. "You would think she would have foreseen an abnormal, carnivorous plant terrorizing the court yard, and impostures of the Spirit of the Hero upon the princess."

"Yes, I do," the king agreed. "But the way her visions work are not always so simple. She cannot see everything whenever it suits her. From what she explained to me, they come to her when they do. I'm certain she would have tried to warn us if she had seen this coming."

Neither said anything for awhile, and then the king spoke up again. "Yet, I cannot help but question her vision regarding Volga. The Volga she described is not the Volga we have right now. It's possible there might have been a mistake, in what she saw."

The Sheikah frowned. "I saw the vision from the orb she gave me, Your Majesty. It looked very real, albeit not plausible with his current actions. But that does not mean we should ignore her warning. Sometimes I'm skeptical of such magic, but you should know that I of all people, know what it's like to be betrayed by someone I trust." She chugged the rest of her drink.

"I do believe we should be cautious still, but we cannot assume everyone is going to be a traitor, Impa," said the king gently. "I will be honest. I don't see Volga betraying the kingdom, not of his own will. He cares a great deal for Zelda."

Impa nodded. "That I cannot disagree on, but I will be keeping an eye on him now and then, just in case. I'll also have you know that he's very powerful now. He's not that insecure child that could barely pick up a war hammer without falling to the ground. I've sparred with him a number of times from our practice sessions, and I cannot defeat him. At best, we are even."

The king sipped his wine. "Even the most powerful warriors have weaknesses. I wouldn't fret too much over this at the moment, but it certainly is appreciated to stay alert. I've actually considered the idea of having Volga occasionally fly over the land to scan for anything unusual. We've seriously overlooked how useful having protection from above can be."

"That, and simply having him fly above the castle would be making a statement," said Impa. "Our enemies will have to deal with a dragon when trying to sabotage us. That is rather clever."

He moved some of the scrolls to the side, making space for him to write. "In the meantime, I will be writing a letter to the sorceress. Perhaps we can get an update from her regarding what's going on, and what we can do to plan ahead. Those new recruits are supposed to be arriving tomorrow, correct?"

"Yes," Impa responded, inwardly groaning. It was one thing for her to interact with her soldiers, men she would see on a daily basis. But these men from distant kingdoms, and their supposed royal blood, tended to be some of the most self-centered snobs she had ever seen, and she had been around nobles for a long time, too.

It would be a long day tomorrow.


	14. Gift

It was said that when angered, the heat from a dragon's body had the potential to be hot enough to start wildfires, merely by being close to combustible vegetation. If such a theory was true, the fate of the dried, trimmed lawn of Hyrule Castle's training field was starting to look bleak right now.

"Volga," said Impa with a raised brow. "I'd appreciate it if we can keep our training field thriving for the next couple of years."

Several of the new recruits sniggered, others took a few steps away in fear, and some shook their heads with brazen disapproval. Unlike a portion of the residents from Hyrule, these humans did not dote on his rising fame, did not join the bandwagon of the notion that dragons were suddenly guardians of royalty. From their kingdoms, dragons were still viewed as great threats, even if they were practically extinct.

And then of course, there were the kingdoms that believed dragons to be myths. So acknowledging Volga from what they had heard of him was nothing short of disbelief for them.

Volga’s eyes examined the patch of grass beneath him. Sure enough, he could see the flames flickering from his body, the orange glow making the leaf blades look like they had been brushed with autumn streaks. Having mastered his control over his abilities over the years, preventing burns on the likes of humans, clothes, and general property wasn't an issue. What he couldn't prevent however, was the burning inside him.

It would happen when he'd hear the foreign royals discuss in low mutters amongst themselves, on how they planned to appeal to the princess.

They would brag about their various skills; one of them proficient with a crossbow, claiming he fired a single bolt at the fastest falcon from their land, having taken down the bird while on horseback. Another boasted about how he had engaged in close combat with an enormous bear, armed with nothing but a letter knife. Then there would be the occasional recruits who had no particular physical talent, but instead, were charismatic negotiators, highlighting that they were best suited for promoting trade and recruiting allies. The list just went on.

And Volga had heard them all, had paid close attention to each story, whether they were truth or lies. His satisfaction was seeing Impa's face react to some of the more exaggerated tales. At least he wasn't the only one aggravated by them. He could tell she was immensely relieved by the time their training session was over for the day.

But it wasn't just the pompous, warrior earls or the viscounts of pretentious chivalry. There was also the immature, and those tended to have no real interest in war or politics. Most of them had the privilege of being there simply because they had blood relation to some distant cousin of the other royal kingdoms. Over the next few days, Volga had the misfortune to come across these humans. Or rather, they had the misfortune to be caught by him.

The Dragon Knight had been on his way to start his midday shift at his standard guard post, when he heard fervid whispers emanating from the willow tree outside of Zelda's balcony. Frowning, he secured his spear and approached the tree, pushing aside the dangling leaves that partially obscured the source of the voices.

Crouched upon the massive branch - _his_ branch where he'd have his night time chats with Zelda - were three humans, each foreigner recognizable to him among the new recruits. The shortest human was clambering to move around, a brass telescope in hand as he tried to adjust his position.

"Damn it, she has her curtains drawn!"

"No look, there's a tiny crevice in the center, if I can just focus the scope more… there we go. She's about to undress! I wonder how soft her -"

"Let me see that!" one of the humans snatched the telescope from him.

"Shut up you morons, we're going to be heard at this rate."

Heard indeed. Feeling quite flustered for more than sufficient reasons, Volga grabbed one of the protruding branches, picking one that was particularly flexible, and that would have enough range for what he intended to do. He pulled the branch toward himself, stretching it far as it would go, the springiness from the bark keeping it from snapping. As if readying a slingshot, Volga released the branch at them with a force that actually knocked them off balance, sending them tumbling to the ground.

They fell on top of each other in a tousled heap. Confounded, and groaning in pain, it took them a few minutes before they rolled on the ground, looking around to find out exactly what had happened. Wincing, they were about to try and get up, when the shadow of the Dragon Knight towered over them. Those eyes glowered at them, like the pins of a cactus, green and piercing.

"Oh… uh… ow, Dragon K-Knight, right?" one of the humans spluttered. "W-we were just, you know…"

"We were just -" another one of the humans interrupted.

"Just," the third one all but squeaked.

Volga made an impatient growl, the sound deep enough to send a nearby rabbit scurrying away in fear - whilst the humans weren't doing much better. "Well you can take your act of _justing_ ," he said cynically. "Away from the princess's quarters, and back to your kingdoms. I shall have to inform her about the unreliableness of curtains."

"Wait, you… you're not going to tell her, are you?" the shorter human panicked. "Please, no! This would jeopardize our reputation! We'll do anything you ask!"

"Don't bribe me, human," Volga spat. "If you want so much as a shred of hope for your honor, you would do well starting off by helping the servants and soldiers of the castle clean up the court yard. And not _this_ court yard," he emphasized. "The one partially in rubbles from the night at the Masquerade Festival. If you so much as step foot in this court yard again, there will be more than just your reputation at stake."

Heeding to the Dragon Knight's suggestion and threat, they nodded frantically. Scrambling to their feet, they sprinted away from the area, too terrified to protest at their sore bodies from the fall.

* * *

Unfortunately, Volga's sour mood did not get better. Each passing day, the foreign royals would slowly start mustering up the courage to actually approach the princess when the opportunity presented itself to them, including times that _he_ sought to be in her company. Times that were already difficult enough to find, with her pressing schedule. There were days where their evening chats were all he had to look forward to, and coincidentally, they were the times he felt the most at peace.

And today, he had spotted one of these foreign royals lurking about Zelda's garden. It had been the supposed bear slayer. Unlike the three humans Volga had handled, he did not immediately intervene with whatever this one was up to. But his attention was alert enough to sit up from his seat in the guards' break room.

Volga watched as the human peeked around nervously, apparently not wanting to be seen, which only raised his suspicions. Since he had been observing the human across the window from the sidelines, he assumed he had not been seen.

The human leaned over Zelda's flower bed, snagging a white tulip from the soil. He then set off on a hurried pace further into her garden. Volga quietly opened the door out of the break room, heading outside to trail after him.

"I'm sorry," Volga could hear Zelda's voice from the direction the human had disappeared in. "But I would really like to finish reading this chapter."

"Come now, Princess," the human insisted. "Not counting your gardens and court yards, they say you've never been outside. Allow me to treat you to a meal in town, at your pick. I'm sure your father would be more than willing to approve."

"I highly doubt that," said Zelda tersely.

Volga found them, but had kept his distance behind the cover of an arch way filled with jasmine vines, away from their sight. A voice was nagging in his head, telling him that he shouldn't be eavesdropping, but he couldn't bring himself to listen right now. He narrowed his eyes when the human offered Zelda the flower. How could he have the _audacity_ to attempt to woo her with something he had stolen from her very own garden?

Zelda took the flower, acknowledgement in her sharp eyes, before she looked up at the imbecile. "Why, thank you," she said, in the most sarcastic, but polite manner that she could manage. "Seems I misplaced this one. I shall have to place it back with the others _from my garden."_

Even though he was annoyed, Volga could not help the smirk that crossed his lips, feeling a fierce pride for the princess.

The human clearly looked displeased with her response. Without asking, he took a seat next to her from where Zelda had been sitting on the edge of the fountain. She was holding an open book with her hands, barely paying him attention, which was further challenging the human's patience.

"You know," he said, trying again. "I've come a long way, much further north from here. My kingdom is an endless winter, ladened with snow practically the entire year. A fragile place of white and gray. Having you there with me would bring color to our lands." He reached for her hand.

Zelda stiffened, retreating her hand before he could touch her, and moving, little by little, further away from him. "That's too bad," she said, her tone growing more irate, and less civil. "Because I hate the cold. I prefer warmth."

The human stood up abruptly, glaring at her for a split second, before seizing the book from her grasp. "Perhaps if you took your nose out of your books, you would know where to find warmth."

There was certainly much _warmth_ emitting from Volga right now, but Zelda took initiative. She stood up, her smaller form contrasting with his larger build, and she grabbed the book right back. Even though she managed to retrieve her novel however, the grip with which he held it caused a bundle of pages to rip, sending bits of parchment into the air, before falling like crumpled snow.

At the devastated look on her face, the despicable human crooned. "Aw, what's the matter?" he drawled. "Did I spoil your happily ever after ending?"

Volga was ready to do nothing more than to jump in and knock out those buck teeth. Zelda shut the book, perhaps trying to preserve as many of the pages as she could. It looked for a moment as if she was going to lean over to pick up the pages from the ground, but instead, she advanced on the human. Holding the book firmly by the spine, she made a sweeping motion as she swung it at him, smacking him hard on the face.

A few seconds of aghast, pained silence cut in, as the human pressed his hand against his face. A trickle of blood began to drip from his right nostril and his lips, showing signs of having possibly broken his nose and teeth. Furious, he lunged for her book once more, practically yanking it from her grasp, and then tossed it inside her fountain.

"No!" Zelda exclaimed, crestfallen.

"You little -" he started, making a move to clamp his fingers around her wrists, but he did not get far. Volga was done watching.

Grabbing the human by the back of his ruffled collar, Volga shoved him away from the princess, and stood between them, his pike positioned in a battle stance. “You’ve already crossed a line of disrespect,” he snarled, a puff of hot air escaping his mouth and heating in his throat, his voice less human and more animalistic. “But if you want to cross a line of violence, you have me to answer to.”

The human looked at him with wide eyes, intimidated, but he did not react as submissively as the other three Volga had dealt with earlier. "Easy there now," he said, as if speaking to a feral wolf, putting his hands up in the air to show that he did not intend to fight him. "You're that Dragon Knight, aren't you?"

Volga did not bother to respond, but he could feel Zelda's hand on his arm, trying to calm him.

"Did you know," said the human, trying to put on a braver facade when he noticed Volga's struggle to control himself. "In my kingdom, we hunt dragons for sport. Slaying a dragon is a testament of courage. It's a shame they're so rare, you would have made an interesting piece to our collection."

Zelda stepped forth to Volga's side, rather than staying behind him. "Well, we do not condone that here," she said icily. "And I'd suggest you start packing to return to your kingdom soon, lest my father hears of what had happened today."

He gave an amused scoff. "Look at you two, protecting each other. How unorthodox." He wiped the blood on his nose with a handkerchief from his pocket. "But very well, Your Highness. I shall do as you ask. I did not intend for all of this to… get out of hand."

If this was his way of apologizing, Volga did not care. He wanted him gone. When the human left the garden, Volga felt more at ease, but he was still seething. Zelda's hand on his arm was all that was keeping his head together right now.

After making sure she was alright, he took the discarded book from the fountain, and tried to rinse out some of the water, as carefully as he could so it would not further get damaged. Zelda was kneeling on the ground, picking up what remained of the pages that she could find. Volga knelt next to her, and handed her the book.

"Thank you," she said sadly. "I don't think there's… much left of it that I can save. With all these missing or torn pages, and water stains on the text. It was the last copy in my library too. I suppose I'll have to order more, but that'll take a long time to arrive."

This only made the other human more detestable. The book had meant something to her. Volga glanced at the cover, and the waterlogged title. "Wait," he said suddenly. "Is that _Hylian Fables: The Untold?_ " he paused. "Book Two?"

"Yes," said Zelda in surprise. "You've read it?"

"Several times," Volga chortled. "One of the books we read together as children, was written by the same author. Frankly… most of the books we read together, I ended up reading more content from the same authors. You know she's planning to write a Book Three as well?"

Zelda gasped. "Goodness, is she really? I _knew_ it felt like she had more in store for us on chapter fourteen! Now I'm definitely going to have to order another copy of this book so I don't fall too far behind!"

"You can have my copy," he offered. "Next time I go to the Eldin Caves, I'll bring it from my shelf."

"R-really?" Zelda looked positively thrilled. "Oh, Volga, you don't have to trouble yourself. If… if you're certain, I'll give it back as soon as I'm done!" she appeared at loss for words from pure, childish, delight. Volga found her display irresistibly adorable. "Thank you so much!"

She flung her arms around him in a jovial embrace, and in that moment, all his anger and bitterness melted away. His cheeks were still warm from earlier, but now they were warm for a very different reason. He lost all train of thought, and it took him a few seconds, before his arms encircled her back. He knew they would inevitably have to pull away, but he wanted to cherish this moment, for as long as she wished to give him.

"Did you see the look on his face when you showed up?" she asked, looking up at him from his arms. "He was terrified of you."

"I saw a well deserved book smack to his nose and teeth," the Dragon Knight gloated. "The human defeats a bear, then gets destroyed by _Hylian Fables: The Untold_. If anything, I believe I saved him from you, rather than the other way around."

They both laughed, their shared mirth echoing in her garden. How was it possible that he had been so worked up awhile ago, and was now laughing in their triumph? What logic was there to be found in his already befuddled thoughts and feelings?

Zelda's birthday would be very soon, and he still didn't know what to give her. What could he give to someone he had treasured so dearly? She had a found a place that he could belong when such a notion seemed almost impossible before he first met her. She had created a world for him. And now he wanted to give her the world.

* * *

"You have a weakness for magic."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Magic," Impa repeated, directing a massive orb seemingly made of compressed water toward a row of training dummies. Like an invisible whirlpool manifesting itself into the orb, the training dummies were sucked out of the ground, and knocked into the air. They hovered within the orb for a moment, as Impa made a sliding, half-circle motion with her giant blade. The orb then burst into water, sending the training dummies flying back toward the ground.

Volga had been practicing his aerial juggling with his spear, trying to maintain one of the training dummies in the air for as long as he could. The sackcloth figure finally fell at his feet, when he surveyed Impa. "Care to elaborate?" he asked.

The Sheikah bent down to pick up her training dummies, and began to rearrange them. "You don't know how to react to offensive spells," she said mildly. "Not in the way you react to physical combat. It's not natural to you."

Impa of course, failed to understand one of the reasons he was performing slightly clumsy. Zelda had been watching them train today, sitting on the risers that looked to be intended for an arena. She wore a white, chiffon dress, and a matching fedora, a charming outfit to relish on the last days of warmth before the season would be over. Occasionally when Impa wasn't looking, so as not to raise suspicions, she would steal him a smile. To say she was distracting was an understatement.

"I…" Volga began, trying to deviate his thoughts from what had obviously caught his attention. "I know how to react to a weapon being swung at my face, because I know it won't often cheat nature or defy physics. I try to treat magic like how I would react to arrows, but it's not always so black and white. An arrow can fly straight to its intended path, whereas magic can curve, or travel just as slowly as it can strike you in a flash of lighting. That's not even accounting for all of its other effects that don't focus on elemental damage. I'm not _weak_ to it. Magic is just… unpredictable."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not criticizing you, per say, you prideful warrior. It's just an observation. If you ever have to face a powerful wizard in battle someday, you will struggle. And unfortunately, developing magical resistance is not something so simple to attain. Just like a weapon, it can take years to master. And some people are just more naturally inclined to the craft than others."

At the mention of 'wizard', Volga was reminded of the story Eveline had revealed to him. Could Impa have been making some subconscious comparison to that?

Two soldiers, and the castle's librarian, suddenly made an appearance on the training field, rushing toward Zelda, and waving to get Impa's attention. The princess stood up and stepped down the risers. Impa and Volga followed, joining the gathering.

"Your Majesty," said one of the soldiers, carrying what looked like a flat, rectangular object with a heavy cloth wrapped around it. "You won't believe what we found."

The other soldier made a salute. "As requested, we've been expanding our search for Duncan. We ventured deep into the Faron Woods, and passed by the sorceress’s manor. You know, we're normally not supposed to be there, but the king wanted a letter delivered to her by someone from our court, so that we could confirm the arrival."

"And?" Impa asked, eyeing the clothed object suspiciously.

"We were able to get through one of the gates there," he said nervously. "I don't know if it was the impending fog, or the broken down pillars, but something about that place looked haunted. There were these… thorns surrounding the place too, and I swear I thought we were going to be trapped there. We knocked on the door, but there was no answer. And we found this propped against the exterior wall."

For whatever reason, the librarian looked ecstatic when she spoke up. "When I saw them bring this here, I told them it was theft, and that we should return it. And we will return it, of course," she said promptly. "But when I saw exactly what it was, oh Your Majesty! You must take a look!"

"Let's be out with the suspense already then," said Impa, as Zelda stepped closer to inspect the object.

The soldier unravelled the cloth. An ornate frame, gothic in nature, surrounded an oil canvas. The painting itself illustrated a young man wielding the legendary Master Sword and a shield. The shield was tilted in such a way where it was difficult to see the emblem, but Volga noticed the distinct blue and silver stripes on the side, the same colors and designs that the soldiers of Hyrule wore.

His hair was blond, barely darker than Zelda's, short bangs making two waves on his forehead, the bangs growing thinner as they reached past his pointed ears. Blue eyes appeared to be focusing on nothing, but there was a certain resolute, tiredness in them. A forest green tunic and cap was painted on his body, with such detail, that the fabric looked almost real. His gauntlets, belt, boots, and pouches all seemed to be made of brown leather. Finally, a long, blue scarf was wrapped around his neck, showcasing the symbol of the Royal Family along its edge.

What disturbed him about this painting, however, was that the clothes looked practically identical to that of the shadow assassins. Even the body structure was the same.

Volga did not know if it was recognition or something else, but something lit up in Zelda's eyes. "This," she said in wonder, tracing along the corner of the canvas. "This is a handsome painting. You can tell the artist really cared to put their time into every detail."

"I know, isn't he gorgeous?" the librarian squealed. "Princess, this has to be, undoubtably, a portrait of the Spirit of the Hero. The Master Sword, the tunic… there's no denying it. We have practically countless books telling of his heroic deeds. But it's very rare to find the texts that actually describes his connection to the Demon King and the blood of the goddess. The blood that runs in your family. Can you imagine what it would be like to be reincarnated along with your Champion, across time? It just sounds so romantic."

He felt a terrible, lunging sensation in his stomach. Zelda had meant that the… painting was handsome, not the actual human, right? He could not think properly right now.

"Handsome?" he blurted, unable to contain himself. He pointed an accusing finger at the portrait. "He looks like a girl. Angular face, and not a strand of facial hair. His body is relatively small too, even for a human."

The librarian looked scandalized. "He does not," she defended. "Are you so narcissistic that you can't bear the thought of a different, good-looking man existing? Yes, you're buff and strong, but at least he doesn't have those ugly black markings on his face."

"Siby!" said Zelda, her blue eyes flashing angrily. "That's completely uncalled for."

She gave a resigned sigh. "I apologize, Princess. And Volga." Her second sentence was more reluctant, but the affront was done anyway. It wasn't that Volga cared about what some insignificant human thought of his appearance. It was his unneeded doubts as to what Zelda did.

Being that they were so close, and him knowing what Zelda was like, he knew she would never outright insult his markings. He had not forgotten either, that she once called him breath-taking. But what had she meant by that? _Did_ she find him alluring? Or was she simply used to seeing him as she did, because they were friends?

"In any case," said Impa, watching Volga closely, before addressing Zelda. "I find this to be far too much of a coincidence, considering the circumstances lately. For all we know, the sorceress herself might have presented this to us, as a symbol or warning. I shall have to speak to the king as well, on this manner. If all sources point to a direction, this could be what we need to start tracking him."

Zelda shook her head. "I'm not going to go around raiding everyone's homes until we find this boy. He's welcome to join our recruits if he so pleases, but I would prefer not to force the situation."

"Yes, Your Highness," one of her soldiers acknowledged. "And ah, if it's not too inconvenient for you, would you mind coming with us to the throne room? Duncan's family is there, and I feel that it would give them much encouragement to see you in person."

"Certainly," said Zelda, giving each of them a dismissive glance, and Volga had to avoid her gaze. He did not want her to see how troubled he felt right now. She already had enough to worry about, without his own complications upon her.

When everyone was gone, he was left with Impa once more. Neither said much as they moved the training dummies back to their places.

"Is it true?" Volga asked after awhile. "About the reincarnations? About Zelda?" his last question was asked much quieter than the others.

Impa was extremely careful with how she chose to answer. "The legend goes that when Hyrule's need is the greatest, the reincarnations of Hylia and her Champion would come to our aid. History has recorded many accounts of the two, but there will always be information that is inaccurate or distorted. Now if you're asking whether or not I believe our Zelda is one of such reincarnations, all I can say is that we can only wait and see. If more dangers starts to befall Hyrule, then yes, she would be reunited with the Spirit of the Hero through their bond."

Volga sulked as he picked up his weapon. "Do you really need him here?" he said bitterly, striking the training dummy in quick successions. "Am I not good enough to protect her?"

The Sheikah stopped what she was doing and gaped at him. "Well I'll be," she said in amusement. "Volga, are you _jealous_ of him? What, are you worried he will steal all your fame and glory?"

_That's not what I fear losing…_

"All I'm saying," he said moodily. "Is that he won't even be needed. I can rally up my clan to join us, if it ever comes to that point. I can bring us more resources from the Eldin Caves, such as ores that can be used to forge more weapons and armor. I've done some basic forging myself. I’ve made shields, maces, and swords for my clan to use. I'm not as skilled as Sir Martel, but I would work hard to improve. I'm confident that I can do it, if I put my mind into anything that matters to me."

Impa was taken back by his desperation to prove himself. She did not doubt that he could do any of these things. Volga had come a long way from the little boy she had met, and even he knew this. "That is commendable of you, Volga," she said respectfully. "Things have certainly been calmer in the castle since you've stayed with us. Zelda herself is happier too. She would rarely crack a smile before."

"I want her to be happy," he said bluntly. "Impa, she deserves so much more than what those foreign, royal buffoons have to offer her. I've been observing them for days. They're not interested in her, other than lust, power, or both."

She fell silent, her eyes more expressive than usual at his words. Then she gave a heavy sigh. "Unfortunately, that is the reality of many kingdoms. Marriage is a means of gaining political power, and producing heirs to continue the cycle. I'm not saying I agree or disagree with it. It's something that just is. But you should know Zelda has better judgement than to fall to the whims of just any royal blood foreigner who wishes to court her. If she finds them unacceptable, they will not have a chance."

Of course he did. Yet it wasn't just the ones who didn't stand a chance that worried him. It was the ones that _did._

"I… I suppose that's all the training for today?" he said softly.

"I suppose so."

Bidding her farewell, Volga was about to leave the training ground, when a thought suddenly struck him. "Impa, wait."

She turned around, and Volga stood before her. "You know how you have war paint on your face?"

"Yes?" she said, raising a brow.

"But you can remove it any time, right?"

"Correct," she said slowly.

"How do you remove it? By magic?"

She shook her head. "Magic can do many things, but it can't do everything. No, I use a particular ointment on my skin. Why?"

Volga fidgeted uncomfortably. He hated asking favors from others, and tried to avoid it as much as possible. "Do you… do you think it's possible to lend me some of it? Not much, just as a test. I can repay you, of course, for the inconvenience."

He thought she would refuse when she scowled. "You're not a stranger here, so don't feel like you owe us anything. I can certainly lend you the ointment. But… do you intend to try and remove your markings? I don't think it would work."

"Yes," he said quietly. "Thank you. But I would like to try."

* * *

There used to be a time when Zelda's birthdays meant something to her. When the sight of colored balloons and confetti used to be exciting. When the trays of her favorite, assorted sweets would decorate the tables. When there would be stacks of gifts, containing everything a little girl could ever want - when all she looked forward to was a promise her father would give her. A promise to allow her to visit Hyrule Field.

A promise he had made every year, but one that was never fulfilled. He would always change his mind, or make up an excuse. Zelda had eventually stopped looking forward to those promises, and he eventually stopped making them. For many years, her birthdays had become, for the most part, just another normal day.

Yet something felt different today, and she wasn't certain why. She supposed her coming of age might have been a part of it, but she knew that Impa and her father would still try and regulate her life, as they had always done. _But perhaps to lesser degree,_ she thought hopefully. _Yes. That would be nice._

"You look _marvelous!_ " Eveline beamed. The tailor had worked especially hard in the past few days to present Zelda with her battle raiment, a gift for her birthday. She stated that the raiment was not officially done, because it still needed the armor pieces for her shoulder pads, gauntlets, chest and hip plates, and boots. But the raiment even without the armor, could still be used as a dress.

Zelda looked at her reflection from the full body mirror in Eveline's shop. Her bodice was mauve and velvet, hugging her chest in such a way that further defined her body, something that Eveline had undoubtably intended. Her shoulders felt bare without the eventual armor pieces, but she did not feel uncomfortable, just a little cold. Delicate sleeves wove around her upper arms, the small flaps mimicking flower petals.

Her dress skirt was divided into two slits, with a front fold in the middle that contained the embroidery of the Royal Family crest, detailed in a regal purple and gold. Since she didn't have her armored boots yet, she wore a pair of cashmere boots that gave her a slight height, and reached just below her knees.

"The little… skirt underneath it still feels a bit short," Zelda admitted. "But you've done a superb job, Eveline."

"Of course I have," she said proudly. "And when it's fully finished, I'll be adding those opal blue droplets as decorations, to match your earrings. Did you like the floral pattern I designed on the hem of the skirt, or was it too much?"

Zelda gave her a grateful nod. "I thought it was a nice touch, and I especially love the silk that you used for the skirt. It's so soft, and feels comfortable enough even to sleep in."

"I would weave the finest silk for you, Your Highness," said Eveline, giving her a bow. "And once I have more time, I'll be making other colors of this raiment. Perhaps a blue one next, to match your eyes."

They chattered on for a few minutes, about fashionable wears, and then began talking about men. "I know some of the ones you've come across are unbearable," said Eveline dramatically. "But not all of them are so bad. My husband and I have spoken with several fine suitors in the great hall the other day. Sure, they don't all have a history with swordsmanship, or the silver tongues to make beneficial investments. But they seemed like decent noblemen."

Zelda placed her tiara on her head, and looked around the room, noticing the male mannequin of where Volga's armor in progress had been. It wasn't that she wasn't listening, it was simply that she… didn't hold any particular interest for any of the foreign royals. "Volga's armor is already finished?" the blonde asked in surprise, noticing the empty mannequin.

"Hm?" Eveline piped up. "Oh no, dear. There's still some work to do on his armor. But it's in a similar state to yours… wearable as clothing for the moment. All that's left is for my husband to finish the helmet and refining the red ore so that it can be melded into armor. As a replacement, he has this handsome, maroon vest which I've specifically designed to reassemble itself between his transformations. This will apply for all his clothing and armor, so that the fabric won't tear apart. And if he likes it, we can make more outfits for him, not just armor."

The princess looked at her in amazement. "Wow Eveline, that's incredible. I'm sure he will appreciate that."

Reveling in the praise, Eveline waved her hand. "It's nothing I can't handle. The long, black sleeved shirt and slacks I made for him are thermal, and they'll be under his armor. It's thin enough to keep him cool, but it can also handle extreme heat. If he finds himself in need of unleashing fire, the enchantment should help him store as much as he wishes without worrying about burning the cloth. Of course, this will still need some testing from his part, but I'm about ninety percent certain it should work."

Before Zelda could reply, Eveline gasped. "That reminds me!" she said suddenly, pulling something out of her pocket. "When Volga came by earlier to pick up the outfit, he asked me to give you this."

She handed Zelda a small, folded piece of parchment. "I would like to apologize though. My curiosity got the better out of me and I… erm… sort of read it. But don't worry," she said, laughing at Zelda's leer. "I have no idea what it's about, so he might have expected me to read it anyway."

Zelda unfolded the note, still slightly annoyed with her nosiness. It read:

_Happy birthday, Princess. I just wanted you to know that I'll be on flight for a few hours to take care of something. Would you please meet me at our usual place this afternoon, at your convenience? Bring a bowl filled with water too, if possible._

_\- Volga_

"A bowl filled with water?" Zelda repeated, confused. "Is he bringing a fish or something?"

Eveline looked overjoyed that Zelda was talking to her about it, and she spoke in a hushed tone, like a gossiping school girl. "I asked him if he planned to get you a gift for your birthday. Oh, my goodness, and do you know what he said?"

"But I told him he didn't have to get me anything," said Zelda, with a sigh. Unable to help herself however, she too, dropped in a low voice. "What did he say?"

"He said, and I quote _'I want to make her the happiest woman in Hyrule today._ " Eveline gave Zelda a devious stare. "He looked so confident when he said that, but he seemed a little nervous too. Sad, even."

Zelda could feel her heart waver. She knew that as soon as she would step out of this workshop, she and Eveline would be heading to the dining hall for the yearly grand feast that was in lieu of her birthday. There would be drinks and dances, and gifts she would have to thank people for. She would have to socialize for several hours, something she could not concentrate on doing right now.

"Eveline," she pleaded. "Help me get through the grand feast."

* * *

And so Eveline did.

The tailor had taken a seat at her side on a table that was so long, that it took the entire wall. Everyone who lived or worked in the castle was seated, including Impa, her father, the soldiers, even some of the servants. Some because most, such as the cooks, were busy making more food. The king had kindly offered for her cooks to take a break and join them. This act was met with scrunched faces of disapproval from the foreign royals, but of course, they did not dare contest their thoughts against the king.

There was a rather polite man who had been sitting across Zelda, trying to engage in a conversation, but not in a persistent manner. The princess would have felt a little more guilty at her lack of interest in trying to keep the people entertained, if her mind wasn't invested in something already.

Eveline had carried the general conversations for her when Zelda could not. She handled the tedious interrogations, the gossips, the political banters about expanding their kingdom, but the topic she clearly enjoyed was whenever people would compliment Zelda's battle raiment, just so that she could have the satisfaction of saying, _yes, I was the one who made it, and yes, I know I'm damn good at it._

One of their chefs had taken a seat nearby, having removed his apron and dressed up a bit more for the occasion. He gave Zelda a grin; he had caught her sneaking a jar of cookies from the kitchen when she was little, and she had told him it was for her dolls. He had teased her about it ever since. "Happy birthday, Your Highness. Don't forget to take some cake for the dolls."

She gave a small smile, and he scratched his chin. "Say, where is that dragon friend of yours?" he asked curiously, the first subject of conversation that had finally caught her attention. "I know how much he loves to eat, so I had prepared all this extra food. Or does he have favorites?"

Zelda glanced around at the food on the table. She had barely touched her own plate, and was only now noticing the food. "He'll eat almost anything, but I know his favorites. He _loves_ steak, and doesn't care how it's prepared, though I know he's more inclined for medium rare."

The princess began to point at various platters. _Finally_ , something that interested her in this feast. "He used to find most grains rather tasteless, but one day, I suggested that he should try sprinkling some spices and curry on his rice. He's enjoyed it ever since." She pointed at her cake. "He'll deny it, but he has a thing for sweets. I still remember that look of wonder and confusion on his face when I first gave him a pastry."

Lost in her nostalgia, she tapped her chalice of wine with her finger. "Oh and he doesn't mind wine, but is a bit like me and prefers it for special occasions. He says fire and alcohol is a hilariously terrifying mix in his throat sometimes."

Zelda was thankful that she had seated herself far away from Impa and her father, because the nobles near her, who had heard her speak, were gaping at her. Eveline giggled. "Ah the detailed observations of a young mind," said the tailor dreamily. "This reminds me of the time when I first met my husband…"

And again, Eveline was there to distract them from the awkwardness or silence. She had, for the most part, managed to keep them from constantly flooding the princess with chatter. She had helped with the exchanging of gifts after the feast, helped Zelda find out who gave her what, so that she could thank them. This part, at least, Zelda could manage. Saying two words now and then and forcing a smile was easier than trying to indulge in conversation.

By late in the afternoon, Zelda was finally able to graciously excuse herself from the party.

* * *

The clear, gel-like substance from the ointment trailed down his skin like transparent tears. He had applied it, precisely as the instructions had been written. He had waited to see if it was simply a matter of time to take effect, but as the day kept moving forward, nothing had happened. Not even the slightest trace of fading. Even when he rubbed his thumb vigorously against his cheeks, enough to leave a very subtle smudge of pink, irritating the skin there - the black markings would always be there, taunting at his reflection.

It had not helped his frustration, when he had come across that same painting of the Spirit of the Hero in Eveline's workshop earlier when he had gone there to retrieve the prototype for his armor suit. She had explained that they planned to return the portrait, but that she was asked to sketch and color a copy. Not for the means of selling, but so that she would have the designs ready at her disposal, if the day she would need to create the attire for the Spirit of the Hero, ever came to be.

With a disheartened sigh, he closed the lid, and took the gift that had been on his dresser. The gift he had spent most of his time searching for, having flown over the lands, and exploring each region. And this was only a small treasure in comparison to what he wanted to give her.

When he left the room, he took off toward the sky once more, his mind not really focused on the multiple paths and towers that would have felt like a labyrinth to anyone new to the grandeur of the castle. He had been so used to guarding the exterior of Zelda's court yard by now, that it had become instinctive for him to find his way through. And more specifically, their place at the balcony and tree.

Their place.

Volga drew the pendent branches to the side, the willow's leaves seemingly welcoming him, as he took his favorite spot that connected the branch nearest to the balcony, to the tree's trunk. Ever since he first heard Zelda play her harp, he had been enthralled by the sight. He'd often imagine what it would be like to lay with her here upon this branch, holding her in his arms as she'd play the melodious sounds underneath their little veil of leaves.

Or how he'd sometimes find her sitting in the library, studying or reviewing documents. Her hair, which was something that had always fascinated him since he was young, would occasionally be bound so tightly by her hair ornaments, that he'd find himself wanting to undo them. To stroke her hair soothingly between his fingers. To gently tilt her face toward him and close the gap between their lips, the gap that stood between them for so long.

 _Goddesses, what am I going to do?_ he thought miserably, burying his head in his hands. How could he tell her of these affectionate urges, when the implications would conflict with her eventual title as queen? That wasn't even taking into account whether or not she felt the same way about him. While he couldn't see her harshly putting an end to their friendship right away, he knew that things would never be the same anymore.

He heard the creak from her bedroom door and exhaled a shaky breath. He lowered his hands from his head… he needed to recollect himself. Using his wings to propel himself toward her balcony, he folded his arms on the surface of the balcony railing, showing enough of him for her to notice, but not in a way meant to alarm her.

Volga saw her silhouette, placing a bowl filled with water on her night stand. He could see the colors from her dress dancing in a blur, as she then opened the glass doors. Since he had gone by the workshop earlier, he had already taken a glimpse at the progress of her raiment, but when she appeared before him, he was at loss for words.

There was always a distinct beauty and elegance in which she held herself, and not just appearance. Her mannerisms, such as the way she would tilt her head, when she was confused about something, or deep in thought. Or how the ends of her hair would comically stick out when she put it up in a disarranged bob or pony tail - particularly when she was feeling lazy or tired, and didn't have to interact with anyone in public for the rest of the day.

Just being around her again was intoxicating, and right now he had to derail his train of thought at the sight of her fair skin along her shoulders, at the bodice that embraced her petite, but voluptuous figure. His eyes met hers, and he saw that she appeared keen, if not slightly skittish, to see him. He truly hoped not to make her nervous, when he himself could barely keep all his thoughts in place. Especially with the way she was looking at him now.

_What if I told you…_

"Those clothes Eveline made look rather fetching on you," she complimented. "Have they been working out for you between your transformations?"

Volga became instantly aware of his own attire. The black sleeves of his shirt had been rolled to his elbows, and the maroon vest and dark slacks had been suitable, both in comfort, and practicality, between his forms. He subconsciously straightened his collar, as if under the illusion that such an act would make him seem more appealing to the woman before him, her compliment giving him a little flair of hope.

"Thank… thank you, Princess. Yes, they've certainly have," he responded, as she gestured for him to step onto her balcony, perhaps trying to be considerate. It wasn't often that he did walk on her balcony, and he'd never do it without her permission. Even though he had a feeling that she didn't seem to mind him there, he did not want to seem improper.

He suddenly realized that when he had opened his mouth to speak, the stem of a flower moved between his lips. This flower… the gift he had brought her, which he intended to _hand_ it to her, had been carefully propped between his upper and lower teeth so that he would not accidentally bite through. He had been in his dragon form for so long today when he had been flying, that it had escaped his mind, and he felt like a complete clod.

"This is for you. I hadn't meant for it to -" Volga dipped his head, embarrassed.

_I want to give you everything your heart desires…_

* * *

He seemed so formal. Too formal, even. Aside from him being finely dressed, she could tell by how he spoke. There was a difference in the ways he would address her, not just her name, but her title. He would say 'Princess' in the public scenario to be courteous. But he would also use it privately between them, either to humor her, or as a manner of endearment.

Zelda had been around him enough to notice that when he was being especially formal, it generally meant that he was anxious, or worried. He would often try to hide this with a face of dignity, his voice smoother than usual, and an occasional smirk so as not to deter others from seeing him as someone with confidence. But his eyes always betrayed his masks, and since most were afraid to look at them, they could not see him in the way she did.

Volga could be very blunt when he wanted to, but he could also be tactfully evasive when something was troubling him. And something _was_ troubling him. Especially lately when she would see him, he would seem so lost in thought, almost reclusive. She had asked him a few times, if he was alright, but he would simply give her a polite smile. Zelda knew polite smiles all too well.

But right now it seemed, that he was making an effort to be more open, but doing so was making him uneasy. Zelda was not at all bothered by him presenting her gift in the way that he did. Truthfully, she was touched by this gesture, and she wanted him to know that.

"That's sweet of you," she whispered, taking the flower from his mouth.

It wasn't just any flower, and certainly not one she had ever seen in her garden. The petals were a delicate shade of periwinkle, with a creative blue pattern along the tips. A pleasant, citrus aroma welcomed her as she took a curious sniff.

"Try putting all of it in the water," he suggested. "Don't worry, it's their habitat."

Now it made sense why Volga had mentioned it on the note. It was an aquatic plant, and… unnatural at that. For when she placed it in the water, the petals lit up. They emitted a soft, blue glow inside the bowl, like an enchanted night lamp. It shimmered faintly along the walls, radiating the room in a calm light.

"How…" she said in astonishment.

"They're called Nayru's Grace," he murmured. "They can only be found in the banks of Lake Hylia. It was said that the Zoras of long ago had scattered their seeds in the water before departing. The glowing seeds reflects wisdom and love." His voice faltered for a moment, and he looked away, as if fearing he had said something taboo. Or perhaps he was uncertain that she would not like the gift.

Zelda had seen the many luxuries of her castle life, had fantasized about what the world looked like, both hers and fiction - far more times than she could count. "In all my years, I've never seen anything more precious," she said in awe. "Volga, I didn't know that such a beauty existed."

She drew close to him, instinctively taking his hand, an action she had done several times to him to express gratitude and happiness. Volga looked at her, a forlorn longing in his eyes as he lifted their combined hands to his lips, his warm breath caressing her skin. He held it there for a few seconds, almost in a silent prayer that she would not pull away, that she would not be frightened.

"It does, Princess," he said wistfully. "There is a world out there, of lush fields and deep forests. Of lava and ash, and of mountains that stretch as far as the eye can see. Of hot sands in the day, and cool sands in the night. Of tranquil waters, and ethereal glows, like that of this flower."

He knelt before her, gently guiding her to climb on his back.

"A world I would like to show you."


	15. Flight

There was an old folklore of a Hylian peasant who had once stumbled upon a mysterious carpet and lamp on the sandy outskirts of the Gerudo Desert.

The lamp contained a spirit trapped within, and in the hopes to free itself from its imprisonment, it offered him three wishes. Having always dreamed of putting behind the slums of his street and living in a palace, the Hylian had considered his first wish; an abundance in wealth wherein he could live like the royals. Meanwhile, the carpet had a power of its own - to take flight wherever the rider desired.

And so one day, the Hylian had caught a veiled Gerudo attempting to steal from the market place so that she could feed a hungry child that had been wandering around the food stalls. He had discovered that this thief was actually the leader of her tribe.

Taken by this woman's charm and determined to understand her unusual outlook on ethics, he began to spend more time around her. Having been uncultured, he found it strange, that someone with a high status such as her would know the background of an impoverished life like he did, would understand what it was like to steal to survive. One night, he offered her a ride on the enchanted carpet he had found, and took her to see the world.

But like most dubious tales, this one was spoken as a whisper; not only because of the uncomfortable truth in that there were people starving in her homeland, or that the idea of a ‘benevolent thief’ would encourage more crimes. Rather, it was a reluctance to acknowledge the relationship between a Gerudo and a Hylian, something that had been frowned upon for many generations, whenever it occurred. 

As for the lamp… the non-existent artifact, the concept of being able to grant any kind of wish, was akin to that of the real relic. The relic which had been the primary cause of corruption and war throughout the land.

Yet here Zelda was, venturing into the pages of her own life. Every detailed sentence was etched into images, every splotch of dark ink transcribed into colors. Colors that he had brought into her life when she had given him vibrance, colors of the world around her that was about to greet her eyes.

She had been hesitant at first, not for her sake, but for Volga's. The princess had reminded him about his back due to the lingering wounds of the Manhandla. Normally, if she had addressed this to him in front of others, he would have made a confident remark on the sturdiness of a dragon's back, the strength of the wings, and that some fading bruises would hardly hinder them.

Instead, perhaps stirred by her words, he reassured her that he had made much progress in her care, and that this would not bother him. Zelda was under the distinct impression that even if he was experiencing any sort of discomfort, he would have ignored it. It was clear to her that he was entirely devoted to her well-being, and she was not sure on how to respond to this right now, other than by her own actions.

In a concerned appreciation, her fingers brushed along his upper back in a feather-like contact. She had come across that familiar spot between his back and wings where her lips had once touched. They had been so young at the time, but now that she reflected on the memory, she felt a shy thrill inside her as she positioned her legs on either side of him.

The height from which they had ascended would have been more unnerving, if she hadn't ridden him already on several occasions. However, those times had been in exigencies of danger… falling into a dark abyss of the dead or chasing assassins and battling a venomous monster - all of which didn't exactly grant her the chance to appreciate the view at the time.

But now that he was flying at a leisurely pace, and they didn't have any immediate threat tormenting the back of their minds, they could both finally relax, if even for a little while. She was able to enjoy the extraordinary sights that would have taken a normal person weeks, if not months to reach by carriage or foot.

The fields of Hyrule did not stretch out like an evergreen blanket, as she had believed them to be. She had only ever seen the manicured lawns of her castle, but the further away from the roads and settlements, the taller… _wilder_ it had become. The drier climates were tinged with the sun-dried yellow that signified the end of summer. There was still green, but there was also a meadow of colored blossoms, sometimes vivid and wavering, like daffodils dancing with the breeze. Then there was the more subdued flora, with its soft, pastel tones mimicking the evening sky.

Weather too, affected the prairies and farmlands. In the areas that had been exposed to recent precipitation, she could see the puddles where soil and vegetation had been soaked, and her senses had become invigorated. There was an earthly scent, of misty dew and fresh rain. Zelda breathed it in deep, a pleasant shudder coursing through her as she continued to drink in to this world that had eluded her for so long.

Every now and then, she would spot a deer bounding across the plains. Or the playful wolf cubs, cuddling against their mother in a mossy den. Even from above they were occasionally in the company of a few skittering bugs, and a surprised flock of songbirds. Zelda could hear their beaked partners whistling in a chorus, as if they were orchestrating a symphony. She stretched out her arms in unison with the gliding of their wings, and became lost in unrestrained glee, at the prospect of something she had only ever dreamed of doing. Her spirit right now felt like that of an animal, wild and carefree.

Something about the timbered incense of the Faron Woods caught her attention, and how the ancient groves and ruined keeps from previous wars, seemed to watch over like a silent sentinel. There were mysteries among the glades, amid the enchanted forests she had read about, and she remembered her nervous soldiers describing the witch's lair. There was a side to this region where a hazy fog loomed over the tree tops, making them appear ominous in contrast to the rest of the lively forest. The way the branches twisted, and how the gnarled roots had tangled themselves, like wooden skeletons petrified in an endless slumber.

Zelda's fingers clenched against her palms, and she felt a frightened, yet protective tug for the Dragon Knight that she could not really explain, which prompted her to mentally steer them away from this particular area.

This world… in all its beauty and darker traits, was fragile. This was the land that her ancestors had fought for countless generations, had spilled blood above its very soil, and died within it. This was her _kingdom_ , and she would experience all of it past the walls of her castle. 

And she could see the landmarks of the other kingdoms too; behind the mountains, within the dust bowl of the desert, past the vast woodlands, could even distinguish the massive ship at the docks where some of the foreign royals had sailed from the kingdom beyond the sea.

Though she was no longer a child, her adventurous nature still resided within her, and it was stronger than ever at this moment. She wanted to see and touch everything. Volga would sometimes land on the terrain, giving her exactly what she sought. The feel of uncultivated grass, almost reaching her height, tickled her exposed shoulders and clung to her hair in a manner that would have curled every lock of a noble's wig in dismay, but she did not have a care.

The sands of the Gerudo Desert felt cool to touch, not the sweltering hot she had imagined it to be - likely because of the slow transition to dusk. Zelda grabbed a handful of the granular texture, watching in wonder, as it sunk between her fingers, the particles scattering back onto the ground like a golden dust. This place, with its baked rocks and lonely dunes - was so rich with history, and yet such a desolate past hidden beneath its sands.

"You must be cold," Volga noted, unfastening his cloak, and wrapping it around her shoulders. "The desert can get a bit frigid for humans toward nightfall. Would you like me to take you somewhere warmer, or stay here longer?"

Zelda had not even noticed that she had been shivering, having been so exhilarated throughout their journey, that she had completely forgotten about herself during her lapse of childish sanity. She was certain that she probably looked a mess too; her hair hung loose around her back like untamed waves, lacking the braid and accessories that helped keep it neatly in place. The ends of her dress were sprinkled with tiny clumps of grass, sand, and slightly damp in some areas from where she had allowed the spray of the saltwater welcome her skin when they had walked along the shore.

Her eyes softened at his chivalrous gesture, and she took a few seconds to ponder upon his offer. What place _would_ she like to go next? She was satisfied with just about anywhere they had travelled. Zelda had a much better idea of what Hyrule looked like now from above, and there was still much to actually explore, as she had been doing each time Volga had landed.

One place however, came to mind, as she regarded him. Something she had been wondering about for a long time now, other than the descriptions of his letters. Something Eveline had brought up with him, and which had been on her mind ever since.

How _did_ he get to be who he was now, having lived in such a supposedly savage and uncivilized region? What had this mystery of a man meant by motivation? What secrets did this dragon hide? Her desire evolved into more than just seeing the world… but a desire to see _his_ world.

"Thank you," she said, reveling in the warmth and smoky essence of his cloak. "I would like to meet your clan and… visit your home in the Eldin Caves. If it's not too much trouble."

* * *

Of all places Volga had thought she might request, the Eldin Caves had been the last location he had expected. From a glance, it wasn't the most scenic zone, compared to the splendor of the other regions. The sight of lava typically dissuaded humans from wandering into that territory, which made it convenient for the Lizalfos and Gorons to remain unperturbed. The lava however, wasn't actually an issue, so unless a human wanted to take a dip in its pool without some godly heat resistance sorcery, they would not melt into ashes.

Temperature was manageable too, and in fact, was cooler within certain tunnels, such as the Crystal Caves. The only time temperature could potentially pose a problem was if the human went inside the volcanoes, and such mountains were behind the Eldin Caves. There, yes, lava was more hazardous, even just being near it, and the smog would have made it more difficult to breathe the air. Those spots were barricaded to prevent non-reptilians and non-Gorons from traversing through. But as far as Volga knew, there hadn't been any eruptions for centuries.

Thankfully, his domain was suitable for a human, not that he ever had a willing guest before.

Then there was his clan. They knew better than to lunge at her like she'd be the evening meal. He had made it clear to them, ever since he first joined their tribe, that she wasn't to be harmed. Every clan had their particular set of rules, despite them being able to do almost anything they wanted for the most part. Even the Lizalfos knew they had limitations, whether they shared this world with the Gorons, the humans, or otherwise. There were other clans that did not necessarily like their rules, but they begrudgingly kept a truce with his own clan, mostly by not trying to intervene with one another and leaving each other be.

No, it was Amusei and Jules that he was wary about. Those two reptilians lived to mock his commitment to human life, to his feelings regarding the princess. It was bad enough to put himself through their humiliation, let alone to imagine the frivolous things they might say to Zelda. Not to mention their overall rowdiness that contrasted so much from the well-mannered nobles. Would she be revolted by them? Surely, she knew what to expect, from what she had seen during his trial, and likely from what she had heard or read.

Regardless, how could Volga refuse her? Especially when she was so mesmerized by everything she was experiencing, by her absentminded touches along his back when they had flown. He remembered the first time when he had walked with her in the market place, in the rare opportunity she had to be outside her castle - and how she had looked at everything in amazement.

But this… she was positively radiating with exuberance. The late sun had kissed her cheeks, bringing them a healthy color. Even in the disarranged state of her hair and dress, she took his breath away.

_Have you any idea the power you possess over me?_

And when he had taken them back to the sky, a thought occurred to him. Who was the _fool_ who had come up with the idea that dragons liked to lock princesses in a tower? While he did wish to have her at his side more often - he could not fathom such an absurdity. It was like trying to imagine keeping a dove captive in a cage, and flaunting the freedom it could have behind the tiny bars. He much preferred taking her soaring into the sky, rather than succumbing her to a prison.

The amber gleam from the mountains stood out amongst the verdure of the land, and the azure of the water, like it had been plopped there as an afterthought by Din. It had been awhile since he was last there, something which his clan would undoubtably reprimand him. Volga had not returned a single time to check up on them since he had parted for the Masquerade Festival and though he knew they were taken care of by the chieftains and King Dodongo, he felt a slight dab of guilt.

"Master Volga?"

"It isss him!"

He had barely landed on the coal-rock ground, when a Lizalfos caught sight of him, which wasn't hard to do, given his distinguishable wings. It was only a matter of minutes before a flurry of reptilians darted toward his direction, pouncing on him in a scaly glomp. They had not noticed Zelda until she swung her legs from his back, her hand in his as he assisted her back to the ground.

"What is this human doing in our landsss?" a Dinolfos with an armored tail narrowed his eyes. It had been the male chieftain. Unlike most of the other reptilians, he did not jump at the opportunity of seeing Volga again, and he displayed even more rancor when he noticed the princess. 

Volga tightened his grip on her hand a little, staring the reptilian down. "Technically, these are _her_ lands that her father gave us to share," he said coolly. "I trust that won't be a problem now will it?"

Both the Dinolfos chieftain and Volga glared at each other. He knew that glare too well; it was look he’d give him when he wanted to fight with him about something, generally involving criticism to Volga’s ties to anything human. And Volga’s glare was the look when he wanted to make it clear that he did not want to deal with this right now. If they were going to resolve this, he’d prefer it during a time where neither would make a scene in front of everyone, especially since this was the first time he had brought Zelda over. 

"Masssster Volga!" Amusei's energetic voice disrupted the tension. "And he hasss brought the princess too!"

"The princesss?" Jules poked her head from the crowd. "Volga, did you finally -"

"I haven't anything," said Volga quickly, paranoid with what she might say. "I'm just bringing a friend to visit." He had difficulty saying the word _friend_ but he wanted to make it clear to them so that they would not make assumptions and embarrass him, or worse, her. "Anyway, Zelda this is Jules. The male chieftain is Drem-Se. And this is Amusei. You have all met back when I did my trial."

Zelda nodded, releasing his hand. "I remember. Back when they were trying to decide if I was a snack," she said with an uneasy smile. "Pleased to meet you all."

"I like her!" Amusei grinned. Subsequent to their arrival, the other reptilians stepped forth to greet them, though some were more reserved and hung back, merely watching the interactions. The male chieftain had left, not saying a word to her. "Mistress Zelda is very kind," Amusei continued. "She hasss sent us many gifts over the years. But the food she sendsss is my favorite, isss when we have the best roasted Cucco."

Amusei made a ravenous look at the very thought, and Volga shoved him playfully on the shoulder. "Yes, the food that you misfits would all sneak from the parcels she'd send, while I'd be preoccupied reading the letters."

Guffaws rang in the air, and a female chieftain presented Zelda a more courteous salute, bowing her head, jewels dangling from her ears as she did so. "And this is Mai-Sa, one of the other chieftains of our clan. She was the one who found me when I was a baby, and the… closest I have to a mother," said Volga amiably.

"Volga, please," said Mai-Sa, hugging him. "Don't get thisss old Lizalfos chief all teary eyed now. It's nice to sssee you again, and a pleasure to meet you, Princess Zelda. Volga hasss spoken very highly of you."

Somehow Volga had the feeling that Amusei and Jules wouldn't be the only ones who would make him feel bashful. After introducing more of his clan members, and walking along with them in a group toward their domain, Mai-Sa pointed to the campfire, to where - not to his surprise - they had been cooking. "If you two are hungry, you're welcome to join usss for a feast. We're having Ely Gedda."

"I actually already ate, but I appreciate it," said Zelda, taking a seat next to Volga from around the campfire. When the Lizalfos had become preoccupied with bringing spices and pots, she leaned close. "What is Ely Gedda?" she whispered in his ear.

Volga felt his heart race at her proximity. "It…" he tried to steady his breathing, pointing to the river of lava from a distance. "Do you see those creatures that spurt out of the lava now and then? It is the name we give them in our clan. I believe the closest translation to Hylian would be… flaming eel."

"They're like fissssh," said a Dinolfos, setting a chunk of meat over the cooking pit. "But you have to remove the shell, you see, because when they are attacked, the covering around them hardensss like armor. This is to discourage their predators from trying to bite through them. Once you remove the layersss, they are very juicy and tender inside."

Zelda tucked a few strands of her hair behind her ear as she listened with interest, the rosy quartz embedded in her tiara glistening from the fire light.

"Say," said Jules suddenly. "What isss that thing called on your head? It's so pretty."

Zelda reached for the tiara on her head, and took it off. "This? Oh, it's called a tiara," she handed the jeweled headwear to Jules. Volga knew of his clan's admiration for gems, and Jules was certainly no exception. Her interest in human-made objects made it all the more obvious as she inspected the tiara with entranced fascination.

"One day, when I become chieftain," Jules said hopefully. "I want to wear something like thisss." She was about to set it on her head, when she glanced between Volga and Zelda. "Isss… it alright if I try it on?"

"Jules…" said Volga in a tone of an apprehensive parent. "Give it back to her."

With a pouting tongue, Jules returned her tiara, but the princess, instead of putting it on her own head, gently placed it upon Jules. The circlet comically drooped to the side of her forehead. "It's a little big on you," said Zelda sheepishly. "But if you'd like, I can have one made for your size. Perhaps a diadem so it's more adjustable?"

Jules looked at her with wide eyes. "Oh, Princesss! I would love that!"

_Even to my own clan, you are kind… as if I haven't fallen hard enough for you already…_

Having warmed up to Zelda a bit, Jules reached for a satchel and tossed it to Volga. "We have pecansss that we harvested outside the mountainsss. Have Master Volga roast them for you, his fire makes them very deliciousss. Then dip some of that stuff… ah what was it called again? It'sss like melted sugar, and goldish-brown. Here, we have plenty."

"Caramel?" Zelda supplied, while Jules passed her the potted container. "Thank you."

"Yesss, that's what it was!" the female Lizalfos beamed, as if she had just learned a new word. "Caramel. You humansss have funny words."

Volga saw the surprise on Zelda's face, and he couldn't blame her. How would anyone expect for the reptilians to enjoy pecans of all things, when most associated them with only eating meat? "Roasting pecans over a fire is a pastime here we do now and then," he explained, taking the satchel, and pouring the pecans on a ceramic plate that only he bothered using. Just because his clan preferred to eat on the ground, didn't mean he would subject her to that.

He hovered his fingers over the plate. Flames spiraled around his hand, heating the pecans, a savory scent enveloping the air. Volga gave them to her, relishing in being the one able to provide her with such things, when she had given him so much when they were young.

Zelda dipped the caramel into the pecans, and took a bite. "Mhm… Volga," she closed her eyes briefly. "This is actually _really_ good. Have some too?"

Volga could feel Amusei and Jules flashing him a suggestive wink without even having to look at them. He took some of the pecans, and chewed, trying to ignore the heat in his body that had nothing to do with the fire in front of him. The feeling was familiar… a desire to please the princess, but yearning in intimacy. Deciding that he did not want anyone to be wondering what was on his mind, he spoke up. "In some of these feasts, the clan would tell stories, usually of their battles or adventures."

"King Dodongo had the scariest storiesss," Amusei added, yellow eyes shining from the flames. "He's older than all of usss, and he's experienced so much."

He momentarily broke out of his reverie. "Where is King Dodongo anyway?"

Mai-Sa made a low hiss. "He's gone back to guard the cavesss where you had your trial. Says he feels a disturbance coming from the Valley of Seersss, and those caves aren't far from there."

"The Valley of Seers?" asked Zelda, after swallowing another morsel of pecans.

Motioning her serpentine head toward the mountains behind them, Mai-Sa nodded. "It isss a strange place that lies beyond these mountainsss, quite some distance to the north east. It was said to be one of the bloodiest battlefieldsss during many wars, but now all that remains is a barren land with little, if any living thingsss."

Several of the reptilians quavered, and Jules flicked her tail. "King Dodongo told us storiesss of battles long ago, where demonsss had emerged from the ground and terrorized Hyrule, and even other kingdomsss. We tend to… steer clear of that valley. It's the kind of place you get a weird vibe from by jussst looking at it, you know?"

"I got a similar vibe from a section in the Faron Woods," said Zelda in a small voice.

Volga frowned. "Sounds like places I should investigate."

"No!" Amusei, Zelda, and Jules exclaimed all at once. The Dragon Knight raised an eyebrow at them in quizzical amusement.

Then Jules huffed loudly. "No, no, you're not. You will ssstay right here and let us pester you with questions like how did you get such fancy armor clothesss? And tell us of your battlesss with that crazy plant we've been hearing the morons - I mean Gorons… jumbling about. Who did you dance with at the masssquerade thingy? What is noble life of humansss like? Tell usss a story, Master Volga."

"There's too much to tell."

"Oh come on, jussst this once? You don't even have to mention everything," Jules ushered, and Amusei joined in. "We barely get to see you, and we want to lisssten to a story before sleeping. Pleassse?" they gave him the most innocent, pleading look they could accomplish.

"Go on, Volga," Zelda encouraged, much to their delight.

Volga finally gave in. "Alright."

* * *

It wasn't long before Volga's clan finished their feast. Most of them had spent time chattering amongst themselves or sharing stories over the diminishing camp fire. They were now lounging around drowsily, getting ready to retreat to their sheltered crags.

"Come on, off to bed you sleepy lizards," Volga murmured, carefully hoisting Amusei and Jules with each one of his arms, and taking them to their dens. Zelda noted this almost parental exchange. The way Volga had vaguely ran his fingers over their heads when he had told them the story they wanted, how he would occasionally scold them and when he carried them to sleep - he appeared more like a father to them at times, rather than an older sibling.

There was a side to him in this place that, though she had seen attributes of before, stood out more to her than ever; a bestial responsibility, in this case being for his clan. A rougher demeanor perhaps stemmed from the expectations upon him… something not much different from her own. And even with all of that, there was sometimes a playfulness in his mannerism, or his flustered display of affection - that drew her in. Every aspect of him was enamoring to her.

The clan itself, from what Zelda had seen thus far, had been nothing like what she had heard from her people. Of course, they were still wild, uneducated, and primitive in lifestyle. At times they were more like children. They were quick to bicker with one another, and they would laugh it off just as easily, a laid-back simplicity. She wondered if this was one of the reasons she had felt relaxed in their presence.

When Volga reappeared from the den, he led her to a slope along the caves to the trail that would presumably be to his home. His broad shoulders were tense, but his expression looked to be one of relief and disbelief. Did he think she would negatively judge him, now that she was seeing his life among the reptilians, rather than his interactions with the nobles?

"That went better than I expected," he mused. "I mean, other than a few complications. That was a thoughtful gesture you did back there for Jules, too. You didn't have to do that, but I appreciate it."

"I think some of them were more uneasy of me, especially the male chieftain, but I didn't mind them," Zelda admitted. "They're easier to get along with than the nobles probably were for you."

Volga shook his head. “Drem-Se doesn’t really like anyone, don’t worry about him. He never liked me either, but it was much worse when I first moved in.”

“Why?”

“He’s one of those reptilian veterans from numerous battles, and basically harbors contempt for anyone who is not Lizalfos and Dinolfos. Even though the reptilians look up to me for having a resemblance to Volvagia, it bothers him that I have human features at all, and more so that I’m involved with them. Let’s just say he’s the most difficult reptilian to please,” he said dryly.

_How does one go about pleasing a reptilian chieftain?_ Zelda wondered. _Though Mai-Sa, that female chieftain seemed more approachable and welcoming._

They had passed a wooden scaffolding, with a gate protecting a keep. Volga set upon a complex path to the side of the keep, stepping over the elevated rocks. Zelda had become aware that the territory he had claimed for his own was not one that would easily be found, something he had likely done on purpose.

Reaching a stone archway, was a door, an actual _door_ , with a lock that Volga inserted a key into. Once inside, she gaped at the sight before her.

Candles lit the wall scones from Volga's doing, enveloping the corridors with a warm, homely glow. Furniture decorated the rooms, most of them hand-carved, others more exotic in design and plush fabrics.

He had the foundation of a man's home; lounge, dining room, kitchen, bathing room, bedroom… some of the areas held something unique to his dragon form, for instance the ceilings being particularly high indicated to her that he would have more space to move around. In one of the rooms, were potted shrubberies, most intended to be grown for food and medicine. Zelda was no botanical expert, but she had asked him how they got their sunlight, and he pointed above.

There was a glass hatch built on the ceiling. It looked like a window that could be opened from inside, and being that his home was quite elevated, she could see the sky behind the glass. He had explained that the air from outside was fresh here, and that he'd sometimes open the hatch just to enjoy the breeze or warmth of the sun. Zelda noticed there was a particularly large expanse of empty space underneath this hatch, and she smiled as she imagined the dragon, curling lazily in a nap, the sun's rays upon his magnificent, red scales.

"You didn't think I lived in a bubbling pit of lava, or some eerie tower, hoarding valuables and treasures, did you, Princess?" Volga asked, smirking at her. "Well, I _do_ have treasures, which I'll show you whenever we're done here."

"Volga," Zelda breathed. "This is amazing. Did you… build this all by yourself?" she pressed her hand flat on the wall, feeling its sturdy, smooth texture.

The Dragon Knight was pleased with her reaction. "You like it?" he said proudly. "I built the walls and the furniture, but some of it was purchased instead. I had a few Gorons work on the doors, locks, and other features, with the exchange of gems of course."

"I _love_ it. I've never seen such a creative idea for a home."

Green eyes glinted in delight, likely from her compliments that no guest would have made from fear of entering a dragon's domain. "Would you like anything to eat or drink?" he offered. "Make yourself comfortable."

"Just some water, thank you," she replied. "I might have enjoyed those pecans too much."

His lips twisted knowingly, before disappearing to retrieve her drink. Zelda looked around, loosening the cloak from her shoulders, secretly wishing her bedroom was this cozy. She delicately folded the bundle and placed it on a cushioned chair. The red, velvet couch in front of the fire place looked inviting, and she was about to take a seat, when something had caught her eye.

Grand bookshelves aligned the walls along the corner of the lounge, and they appeared to proceed into another room, likely his study. Zelda approached the area in wonder, taking in the sight of countless books scrunched in each shelf, some disorderly laying sideways, others organized in various categories. Arithmetics, alchemy, astronomy, history - that subject alone had numerous volumes nestled together.

And the different subjects continued further down the shelves… Zelda paused at language and literature. She pulled out a book simply titled _Hylian_ , and skimmed through the pages curiously. The content prefaced basic Hylian culture, dialects, and - she pulled out several leaflets that had separated the pages with what appeared to be Volga's notes. Listings of vocabulary words, of grammar and usage were written in his handwriting, tentative sentences and errors of his own that he had made attempts to correct.

She placed the book back in the shelf, her mind spinning. Did Volga read _all_ of these books? While she had known that he had studied throughout their exchange of letters, she never knew he had been this potentially committed.

It did not stop there. Zelda followed the shelves that extended to the other room. The books had become more specified here, many of which she recognized, herself. _Royalty_. Everything one could possibly imagine about the life of a royal seemed to highlight these particular shelves, from court etiquette, to types of regal clothing, to the many, perplexing explanations of when to use eating utensils for specific meals. And there was so much more, that the princess had to take a moment to step away from the shelf, and glance around the room.

There was a quaint globe, and next to it, was Volga's desk. Bottles of ink and assorted quills rested upon parchments, both blank and written. There was an open book that detailed the steps of ballroom dancing, and more of his notes to the side, a part of it showing a checklist on what he still needed to work on. Zelda spotted an unfolded letter, one that contained the Royal Family stamp and was apparently an invitation to the Masquerade Festival. There were more letters, some of her own that she had sent him, and she was finding it increasingly difficult to resist the urge to read through them.

One of the letters she had recognized without even having to pry, because it was one of the longest letters she had ever written to him. He had asked her years ago about the things she wanted and she had said; seeing Hyrule Field, of a man who was kind and passionate, who accepted her interests in music, literature and… her eyes widened. All of this…

And then she saw it.

Beneath the letters and parchments, was a worn sketch. It was the sketch they had drawn together when they were little. She had made a male and female dragon to try and provide a happy ending to the usual tragedy of dragons being slain by heroes. But Volga had drawn something back then, and he had refused to show her. Now she saw, the female dragon was inked out and replaced by… a girl. A girl with pointy ears, a flowing dress, and a tiara that looked exactly like her own.

Zelda felt as if the ground beneath her had vanished, and she was standing on air. She couldn't feel her legs, and she found herself holding her weight against his desk, her fingers gripping the edge. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to sort out her thoughts, trying to understand the complexity of the sensations within her. Her heart was pounding right now, and she didn't think this was normal.

Slowly, she set the sketch back to its original place beneath the letters, attempting to rearrange the desk to the way it was as best as she could. She returned to the lounge, pondering on what to do. If she sat down by the time he came back then perhaps he wouldn't find anything suspicious in that she had essentially snooped around his study. Yet she couldn't bring herself to do so, and stood instead, facing the bookshelf she had originally observed. She felt it to be prudent that he'd be aware, at least to some degree, that she had been looking around.

When he returned, the hammering in her chest overtook her once more. She felt strange, conflicting emotions… a part of her wanted to hide away from the fact that she was very much enticed by this male, in more ways than one. The other part of her, felt more daring, a need to explore what these feelings actually meant and how he would react to them. A need to explore _him_.

"I see you found my library," he said, giving her the water. "I believe I owe you a book."

Zelda took the glass and thanked him, bringing the liquid to her lips as she studied him move around his shelves to search for the book he wanted to give her. When he found the volume, he pulled it out of the shelf and held it out for her. "Here you go."

Despite everything, she could not help the literature-enthusiasm overtake her as she took the book and held it lovingly against her chest. "Thank you so much, Volga."

"You…" his gaze flickered with an uncharacteristic, but recognizable shyness, a more subtle side to him that she too, found endearing. "You can keep it. Any of these books, if you ever need them, they're yours."

_You are so dear to me. Everything you have done for me… how do I convey this feeling to you?_

She had planned to confront him about the sketch, about her other curiosities, but she did not know where to begin. Her mind was still processing what she had seen - was it merely a child's drawing, or was she overreacting to the implications? She didn't want to disrupt this moment, when he looked so happy with being able to show her everything, so eager to show her more.

Zelda had come to realize that his guard was down when he was with her, a vulnerability reflected in his eyes. Seeing him slowly open up to her like this, in ways that would have been almost impossible for him to do in front of anyone else - had encouraged a thought. Perhaps if she, too… opened up to him a little, he wouldn't be alone in this. Then maybe everything would fall into place.

* * *

Volga could not recall the last time his home had ever felt so alive. Everywhere she looked wanted to open more doors for her, wanted to give her everything to sate her curiosity. His walls had been strong, but the years of cold emptiness that came with them… had been stronger. Now they warmed at her touch, at the praises from her beckoning lips. Every book on his shelf wanted to bow to her, for she had been the base for knowledge, and an inspiration to her tribute.

Even the gems from the Crystal Caves never looked more enchanting, as he escorted the princess through the treasures that bordered his home. The way the crystals illuminated the tunnels resembled thousands of cyan stars, captured in her awed gaze. In all the places they had travelled today, he had never seen her this captivated by their surrounding.

This only encouraged him to take her further into its depths, to the covered alcove that not even his own clan had known the existence of, because even upon scrutiny, it appeared as an opening to a dead end. Volga pushed aside the rugged boulders that blocked the entrance, and took them inside.

A refreshing breeze swept through them, carrying the tang of damp rocks and wet clay. The deeper they went, the air grew crisp and vaguely spiced, like fresh berries plucked from an autumn branch. Water trickled along the stones, the sound getting louder, as the dim light at the end of the tunnel became more clear. Light that had come from outside, from the night's cunning nature. It was there, that they reached the clearing.

The view looked as if it had been crafted by the gods and goddesses themselves to spend their time in, its beauty hidden from mortal eyes. Waterfalls resounded from the tall ridges, cascading down like multiple blue satins threaded with silver. They drizzled into the rocks, plunging and foaming into a pristine spring.

Though the cavern's walls enclosed the area, the open air from above made it distinct because there was, not just cool water, but actual life teeming within. Sometimes the croaking of the frogs could be heard from the floating lily pads and the ferns near the water. These plants also grew on the walls, alongside the moss and crystals that bathed the rocks in a green and blue luminescence.

But Volga's attention was drawn of course, to the woman's reaction upon what she was seeing. There was so much she had spectated today, and perhaps overwhelmed by its entirety, she was now rendered speechless. He watched as she crouched at the edge of the spring, touching the water and grass around her as if to convince herself that everything was real.

"I found this place years ago while searching for a water source," he informed. "Those waterfalls are coming from a stream that if you follow along its path, will eventually lead to Lake Hylia. I've read that the erosion over time gradually shifted the rivers closer to the mountain range near Death Mountain. It is possible that one of these streams might have expanded all the way here in the Crystal Caves, from such an occurrence."

"The glow from the crystals remind me of the glow from the gift you gave me. This place is beautiful," she said, standing up as her hair and dress whirled around her, a peaceful expression on the side of her face that was almost picturesque, with the waterfalls before her. Volga swallowed, knowing that for his own sake, he should probably look away, but he couldn't bring himself to with the practiced readiness he had known.

" _You're_ beautiful."

Had he voiced that aloud? He had, and he found that he didn't want to take it back. He couldn't differentiate between his thoughts and words at the moment.

She turned to face him, her eyes intrigued, but she was such an enigma at times, that he could not always anticipate what she would do or say. So when she took a few steps toward him, Volga could feel his knees weakening, even though he was firmly rooted to the spot. He breathed in to let the oxygen into his lungs, trying to relax his body, yet when he exhaled, he felt just as nervous.

"You know what this reminds me of?" she said thoughtfully, raising her hand as if to place on his shoulder, but lingering uncertainly between them. "When you first said that to me and then we danced. I thought I was swept into some fairy tale, with how dreamy you were about everything," she gave an implied, self-berating laugh. "A part of me still wonders if all of that really happened, or if we had simply spent the night battling those assassins and the Manhandla."

Her face tilted downwards, and somehow this brief avoidance of eye contact showed a sensitive side to her that she preferred to keep to herself. "We never really spoke of our dance since then," she said sadly. "It… would have been one of the best moments in my life, had we not been interrupted. I daresay today has been quite the contender."

Volga felt as if he was soaring on solid ground. Between his hopeful elation at what she was insinuating, his smugness with her associating him as dreamy, and his anxious excitement to sweep her off her feet - his emotions could not seem to hold back from his control.

"There's no reason we can't relive that moment and make it your best," he said, trying to calm his eagerness, and failing. "Or even that all of this can't happen again. Me showing you the world doesn't have to be limited to only today. I want to take you anywhere, anytime you wish. I know that won't always be easy to arrange with your responsibilities at the castle, but it no longer has to be a wishful fairy tale for you. Let me make them come true."

His speech had picked up momentum with each passing word, rushed in his child-like state of enthusiasm, almost as if he were worried that if he did not get everything out, his offer would be revoked. He took her suspended hand and brought them to his shoulder, only realizing seconds too late of his directness. "If… if you want to of course. I mean, if you're tired and rather me take you back to the castle, let me know too."

Zelda's mouth opened at this display, but no sound came out. The mesmerized, but mysterious expression on her face had captured all of his words, the glimmer in her eyes speaking a world of its own. She rested her hand on his shoulder, but rather than keeping her arms at a typical dancing distance, she closed that empty space, bringing her other arm around his back as she clung to him.

This action… felt different from her way of showing gratitude, though he was certain it was included - this was something else. Something in her hold, in the way her fingers grasped the back of his shirt in a confused desperation that her words struggled to express. The way their bodies had been pressed so close, that he could not tell his erratic heart beat from her own. She was trembling just as much as he was.

"I'd rather be with you," her somewhat shaken voice was muffled as the side of her cheek buried against his chest.

Stunned, Volga stood there, his body surrendering to the sheer intensity of this sensation, of this… reciprocated grip that he had held for her for so long, that it was as if they were being reunited all over again. Even though they were dancing, there was less eloquence in their movements, not so much focused on the dance itself, but a slow swaying, the feel of being in each other's arms.

Something had changed between them. He knew this by now, and he was certain she did too. There always was _something between them_ , but today was different. From the moment she took the flower, from the moment he took her to the sky. This… friendship they shared, Volga did not know what it was anymore. It was as if everything he wanted to give her was too much for only friendship to contain.

"Volga," she said, and though they had not moved from their positions, he could hear a hesitancy in her tone. "I saw… your collection of different subjects. I saw your many shelves featuring the life of royals, and your notes." she paused. "I don't understand why you went to the lengths you did to learn more about royals. That would have been exhausting for most."

He could have told her that he was simply interested in learning more, but those words did not want to come out. Why would he only give her a half-truth? If she had made it as far on his shelves to be able to find his royal gallery, then what else had she seen? There were letters he had written to her, intimate letters that he had never sent in fear of her never writing to him again if she had known… of how desperately in love he was with her.

"I saw the sketch."

Volga bristled and she had felt his tension. She did not have to explain what sketch she was talking about, even though it wasn't as if he had only ever drawn once in his entire life. But somehow, he knew exactly _which_ sketch she was referring to.

"Zelda, I…" she pulled back slightly to look up at him, their swaying coming to a stop.

She brought her hand to his cheek, and at her touch, he could not concentrate on his words. The last time they had been in a similar situation, he had his mask, but now there were no barriers between them.

"Your skin looks a little red," her thumb brushed over one of the markings on his cheeks.

Of this he had no doubt, but finding an adequate response to such a statement was proving to be rather difficult. "It's n-nothing," he said, hoping to convince her that his reaction was caused by something other than the flushed reaction of his skin. Then he remembered the barely visible smudges from when he had tried rubbing them off. Perhaps she was referring to this. "I thought I would be able to remove the markings with some of the ointment Impa lent me but… it didn't work."

He could see the question in her eyes, and a pensive silence fell between them. For a few seconds, nothing but the sound of the tranquil water could be heard. Volga lifted his hand to where hers had been on his cheek, covering her hand with his own. He didn't want them to be interrupted like last time, didn't want to lose this. He didn't know yet how to confess, but he felt that she at least, deserved something more substantial than silent denial.

"I studied hard," he said quietly. "Because you inspired me, and I practiced writing, so that I could keep in contact with you. I read about royal life because… the day I was to be reunited with you again, I wanted to become more than what I was. I know I may not be royal, and that a part of me will always be a dragon, like in that sketch, but I still want to treat you as a prince would. I want to give you so much more, because I want to _be with you_."

He slouched in defeat, wishing he could hide his face in her hair, wishing she had never noticed that he had attempted to remove the markings. What would she think of him now, if she knew how foolish he had been over a painting? What would she think now, if she knew…

Perhaps his emotions had somehow reached her, because clarity formed at the depths of her eyes. It was as if everything suddenly made sense, even if they both might have known it all along. Yet neither had known how to acknowledge their own feelings… how would they have known each other's? This was something so new to them, each of them trying to find their own ways of demonstrating how to express themselves.

Zelda reached with both hands, and he closed his eyes. Her fingers were exploring the contours of his face, and stroking the planes. She was willingly touching him, and he was lost in her caress.

His eyes had been closed. They did not open until he felt a warm moisture on his cheek, her soft lips on his skin, and trailing over his markings. The markings that had sealed his fate before he had taken his first breath, and made him who he was.

And it felt glorious.

"I love how you are," she said softly. It was almost as if with her, he _was_ dreamy. What if there were no markings at all? What if it had all been an illusion that she could see through, when others could not?

"I want…" she trailed off, a brave shyness in her voice, as she tip toed slightly against him, their lips so close, that Volga could no longer resist her. He gently cupped the side of her face and leaned forward, placing his lips on hers.

* * *

Zelda had been so longing to kiss him, that she was not sure who leaned in first, but when she felt the contact of their lips, it didn't even matter. All thoughts of anything had momentarily become obsolete.

A pleasant tingling coursed throughout her body, like an electric current. There was a faint trace of pecan, and a distinct cinnamon smokiness that deliciously melted into her senses. There was so much _warmth_. It radiated between them, from his lips, to their bodies, and she never felt anything more addicting. It was only the feel of their lips, and it was already doing _this_ much.

Her hand travelled to the side of his strong jawline, and she made a sigh of delight when she felt his fingers burying into her hair, deepening the kiss. Everything was foreign to her, yet their instincts felt natural, like they had this coming for a long time. Like there was more to come at its own pace.

When she reluctantly parted to catch her breath, she could see that he appeared just as breathless as she was. His expression mirrored her own utter astonishment at what they had just shared. His eyes were darkened with controlled desire, and softened with adoration, and he looked so blissfully flustered, that she wanted to kiss him all over again.

"Zelda," he said huskily, his tone coaxing inviting shivers down her spine. "Did we really…?"

"Yes, we really," she replied, smiling against his lips. "And now I don't want to go home."

His fingers brushed her cheek. "Then stay with me a little longer," he murmured. "I'll take you back before it gets too late."

She wanted to stay here for the rest of the night, wanted to lie upon the moss-covered rocks near the waterfall, and curl up against him until her call to return back to the castle would inevitably pressure her. Until she would have to confront what reality expected of her, and what she wanted out of reality. And there would be a great deal more to think about.

For now, she wanted to obliterate all these thoughts, and cherish their moment, with what time would grant them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Aladdin parody reference was intentional, as was the ambiguity of what form Volga was in when they flew, full dragon or human with wings, so that it's up to the reader's imagination to what they prefer :) I spent a lot of time in this chapter, particularly trying to describe the world with as much vivid creativity as I could, but hopefully not overdone. Same with the amount of work I put into their actual romantic scene, and yeah. Favorite chapter to write so far, but my goodness did it take a lot out of me. Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Might be awhile till my next update, since I'm caught up with stuff in real life, but also because I have many future things to sort out for this story as we're slowly heading closer to the events of Hyrule Warriors. As always, feedback is much appreciated.


	16. Pressure

Gusts drifted from the eastern shore of the Lanayru Sea, all the way out to the ancient valley in the north east. The further away from that ocean, the less inhabitable the environment became. There, the trees did not flourish with palm leaves and fruits. The bark was coal-black, as if charred. Bare, spiraled twigs were specked with yellow and faded colorations of battle-worn magic.

Sea gulls preferred to fly around the valley, rather than over it, until they were in the comfort of the coast. Instead, crows scavenged the wasteland, their keen eyes like ravenous spies. They plucked at the sand for buried remains, or prowled along the rockier terrain and the occasional crumbled ruins.

Such was the desolation that encompassed the Valley of Seers.

The region was generally avoided, and as a result, few knew what stirred within the land nowadays. Veterans claimed demons had come from underground in the past, and this made a number of people question the possibility of their enemies having another world underneath. 

To prevent public panic, the Occult Council, an organization designed to maintain secrets of each kingdom and uphold peace between them - reasoned that if demons truly had a world of their own, neither world could be easily accessible to each other.

The idea of demons rising from the ground again however, wasn’t completely brushed off. Although the Hylian forces had been victorious in the previous war, there were still reports of demons occasionally being sighted, having scattered to the other kingdoms after fleeing Hyrule. Again, the Occult Council stated that all that was left under the sandy valley were buried corpses of fallen warriors. Whether or not _those_ stirred, remained to be seen.

What was even less widely known was that in the course of the last twenty years or so, a foreign, serpentine creature made an appearance once a year, traveling underneath the sand. No one had the faintest idea where this beast had come from, or what it wanted. There had never been incidents of anyone being harmed from it, but then again, it wasn’t as if people wandered into the area often, let alone lived there.

Some believed that the creature was a security system of the valley, or something sacred sent by the goddesses to keep evil away. For reasons unknown, the Occult Council did not bother investigating this phenomenon. Perhaps they thought that these beliefs would keep people from fearing another demon outbreak. 

Today had been such a day where the creature had returned for its yearly routine. Its long body jutted in and out as it traversed within the sand. Every now and then, the tip of its head would emerge, like the fin of a shark hunting for prey. Reaching a cave, the creature slithered out of the ground, taking to the shadows. There, a more well-known beast greeted its presence.

“I still don’t know why you bother hiding,” Dodongo growled. “It’s not as if there are any humans around. Especially near this cave.”

Though the creature was barely visible from the lighting, the silhouette of its massive, coiled body could be seen, a sheen of silver brimming from its scales. It shook its horned head. “That is incorrect, King Dodongo,” the voice, although deep, was an octave higher than a male reptilian’s. Female. “I’ve spotted several people a few days ago. One of them, questionably so. I almost had her mistaken for a demon.”

The golden beast stretched out his claws, lying on his stomach. “What’s this? The undercover demon hunter can’t tell a human from a demon now?”

She gave a low roar of irritation. “This isn’t time for jesting. The woman was cloaked and wore a beaked mask. I saw her at the summit of the valley. The area with the altars. She was talking out loud, but there was no one near her. Then she began chanting… a ritual if you will. Whatever it was she was trying to do, it didn’t work, and she looked frustrated.”

Dodongo cocked his head. “So?”

“This ritual she was doing,” the silver creature explained. “It’s not something a mage just _happens_ to know. This was demon magic. But since I’m still unclear if she’s a demon, I’m not sure how she would be able to possess such magic.”

A distant, but audible sound of multiple, languid footsteps had Dodongo sit up. They both went silent, until the noise had ceased further away. Then she spoke again. “The dead ,” she hissed. “I know that’s why you’re here, too. Their behavior has been unusual. They’ve been piqued ever since that woman stepped foot here. I saw her transport a group of them into a portal. What’s more… they obediently followed her, like she was a necromancer. What do you make of that?”

Confusion and disbelief flicked in his red eyes. “What could she want with a group of Redeads?” he then guffawed. “If she really is into that necromancy nonsense, then so be it. Even if a couple of corpses wander past these caves, they’d either go toward the Faron Woods, or the Eldin Caves. Not sure how those forest folk would go about dealing with them, but if the Redeads stumbled to my brethren - ha! We’d douse them with a bit of flames, and they’d become nothing but burnt remains. We have nothing to be afraid of.”

“You forget the mountains behind the Valley of Seers. Not that I would allow them to go there,” the serpentine beast barred her fangs. “Still, I would not rely on such blind confidence, Dodongo. I know demon magic when I see it. I have been hunting demons throughout kingdoms for a long time now. See me as scout if you prefer, and heed to my words.”

Dodongo nodded. “I suppose Hyrule has you to thank for, or at least partially, for keeping the demons away from here.”

“The demons have taken everything from me,” she said darkly. “Don’t let them, or any threat, do the same to you. Stay in these caves as much as you can, and hold back the Redeads, if any of them try to leave. If she comes in here again, be on your guard.”

* * *

His instructions were clear. She needed a place to establish a base, in addition to her temple in the forest. Somewhere expansive in size, and preferably isolated so as to avoid suspicious bystanders. Somewhere like the Valley of Seers.

This has not been her first visit, but due to her companion’s paranoia, she had to space out some time between when she would return, to stay clear from any observers who were potentially keeping track of her schedule. And she too, felt that she was being watched at times, so she complied with making her visits more random to ensure her discretion. 

Making her way to the north of the valley, she climbed up the surrounding stair case that led up to an altar.

 _ **This altar area will be the perfect set up for our base**_ , his voice carried on approvingly in her mind. _**What’s more, is that it’s so far out from the other regions, that the likelihood of anyone venturing here is low, at least for a time. Best of all, it’s the most opportune location for you to open the Gate of Souls. However…**_

Of course. There was always a catch, no matter how powerful she grew, there would be an inconvenience in its path. 

_**As you’ve seen, your magic isn’t yet strong enough to open the Gate of Souls**_ , he said plainly. _**We will need to have walls built around the altar. Even though this spot is distant enough from the mortals, the sight of the glowing portals will be bound to catch attention, so we need this base covered. Until you have mastered your ability to control minds, we have no army. There will be no point in having hordes of monsters pour from the gates if you cannot command them yet.**_

“I have my Dark Links,” she protested. “Don’t forget the Redeads we warped from the nearby caves to one of our prison cells. _And_ the Hylian soldier in the other cell. I could probably summon another Manhandla too, or a different creature in time.”

He made a low tut, unconvinced. _**So far, our Dark Links can hold back the average fighter, but not seasoned warriors. Not to mention they are temporary. You need to have constant minions, not just summoned ones. Redeads are obeying us because we’ve led their instinct to believe that they will have flesh to feast on if they’re on our side. You have a basic grasp on manipulating them, but it will not suffice. This is why you still can’t overtake the mortal prisoner. Now, let us see what more in this valley we can find for our use.**_

The Dark Sorceress scowled as she descended the steps from the altar to continue exploring the vacant site, the wind billowing her hood, cloak, and the feathers near her mask. He underestimated her. She would find a way to coerce the prisoner, if not by magic yet, she would use other means. That soldier _will_ become her Darknut. She was aware that she would have plenty of Darknuts to come once she opened the Gate of Souls, because she had seen glimpses of them in her recent vision, among a variety of other minions. But this particular soldier felt like a test of sorts, and she wanted to overcome it. 

And to prove her companion wrong.

Cia did not know how long she had searched past the rubbles while her mind had been brain-storming an imaginary list of methods of persuasion and intimidation. The soldier… had a family, did he not? Why should she give his family a chance to be happy upon his return, when _her_ family never sought to return to her? As soon as her parents assumed her old enough to burden the responsibility the so-called Goddesses set out for her, they had left and she had never seen them again.

 _ **Your family gave you a home**_ , he pried into her thoughts. _**And they made sure you’d stay fed, otherwise the hooded monks wouldn’t leave food outside your gate every month.**_

“The monks weren’t for my benefit,” Cia said acidly. “They work for the Occult Council. And they’re all about keeping _dangerous or abnormal_ matters hidden. The Triforce and my role being dragged along with it - are just few examples that warranted such secrecy.” She rolled her eyes. “They’d probably trip over their righteous robes if they knew I warped here. The only time they’ve seen me stepping out of my temple is to inform the king regarding my visions. Even those are usually closely monitored.”

 _ **My point is that your family left you with something**_ , he countered. _**You did not have to scrummage for food, or look for shelter in harsh weather conditions.**_

“And you did?”

All thought of bases, subjugating soldiers and petty squabbles were temporarily cast aside. Ever since she had shared visions of the past eras with him, he’d sometimes go into stretches of shrouded silence, like he was trying to recover a lost memory. She had dared to ask him his thoughts, only to have him snappily reply that he was trying to focus. Given that they both shared their minds together, she found it maddening that she couldn’t actually read his mind. In all this time she had spent around him, there was very little she knew about him.

 _ **I think**_ , he said prudently. _**That you should stop flirting with me and pay attention to the task at hand.**_

Flirt? With _him_? “As if I’d flirt with a disembodied voice!” she said loudly. “At least my libido is toward someone with a full body!”

“May I… help you, Madam?”

She was so perturbed by the sudden presence that her hands jolted, as her staff slipped from her fingers. Her companion’s deep cackling ringing in her head was _not_ helping. Embarrassed and annoyed, she glared at where the voice had come from, and this time, someone who did actually, have a body. That is, an aged, wrinkled form, limping toward her. He had appeared from around a short, but surprisingly whole tower. 

Cia leaned down to pick up her staff. How had she not noticed this structure before? What could she say? This was mortifying. She hoped the old man was nearly deaf or hadn’t heard her. 

“Are you here to visit my museum?” 

Oh. This she had not expected.

“There’s a museum here?” 

“Why, yes,” he said conversationally. “I mean, it’s in progress. The Valley of Seers may be a haunted wasteland to most people, but I want to change that. I collected many interesting artifacts across Hyrule, though the ones that stood out the most were the ones from this valley. Ancient weapons and the most curious materials found on armor that I have never seen in our present time. Even skeletons of great warriors and fangs of beasts that could very well have been unrecorded from centuries ago.”

 _ **Hm,**_ said the voice pensively. _**It might not be a bad idea to inspect this mortal’s museum. Worst case scenario is that it’s all a pile of junk and we’ve wasted our time. Best case scenario, you’ll have a full body you can take back to your home and enjoy.**_

 _My, my, is that sarcasm a mask of jealousy?_ She jeered back at him in her mind. _This old bag of bones couldn’t imagine a body like Link’s, even if he went back thirty years. You, perhaps thousands of years._

 _ **Oh, but I could**_ , he said silkily. _**In more ways than you know. As if I need to be reminded, given the… adventures of your dreams. And you’re one to talk about age.**_

 _What?!_ She almost yelled out loud in her outrage. _You can see my dreams now too?!_

 _ **I have for a long time**_ , he said snidely. _**It’s not my fault you have a wild imagination.**_

This was… there were no words to define what this was. How dare he look into her dreams- those were private! On one hand, Cia wanted to shrink where she stood, but on the other, she wanted to humiliate him in return. She was not given the chance to mull over this however, because the old man spoke.

“Madam, are you alright?”

“Yes,” she said distractedly. “I would like to visit your museum.” 

_I would like to visit your museum and lock my companion in a display tomb for all eternity._

* * *

The museum’s tower was much smaller than she had expected. Inside, there were chunks of stone lying in piles, some from the cracks along the walls.

“I know it’s not in the best condition,” said the old man apologetically. “But as I said, I’m still working on rebuilding it. Managed to get this place standing in just several weeks! Oh, please don’t touch that.”

Cia had been skimming her fingers over a squared patch of snake skin. It would make a stylish purse. She turned to face him, her hand halting in place from the object, but not withdrawing. “You’ve been rebuilding this tower? All on your own?”

“Me, some men, and a little help from my grandson. But we’re looking to hire more workers,” he said, white brows furrowing. “Please, Madam. That snake skin sheds very easily.”

This time she retracted her hand, and continued peering around. “Still,” she said, almost to herself. “Being able to build something from a place that’s mostly in ruins in a timespan of a few weeks, with only a few people - is quite impressive. _Very impressive, actually.”_

She wasn’t sure if the apprehensive smile on his face was from the compliment, or something else. Perhaps he was growing uncomfortable in her presence. And he very well should be. Her lips gave a malicious quirk when she had her back to him again. If she could command him, then he could work on building those walls around the altar, and she’d have her base. He could probably build more for her too.

“And this?” she asked, standing in front of a coffin.

“Ah,” he said knowingly. “Mind the rot, my senses have dulled, so I can barely even tell but -“ he carefully opened the coffin. Inside was a corpse wrapped in bandages. “This is a Gibdo. The practice of mummification is rare in Hyrule today, but before the Gerudo had been exiled to the western kingdom further in the desert - this was one of the methods they believed their Spirit Goddess favored. The embalmers would wash the body and wrap it with linen bandages. The bandages were covered with a gum that has shown both waterproofing and antimicrobial agents.”

Cia thought she had imagined it, but a disgruntled sound echoed in her mind. _**It doesn’t please me to say this**_ , he spoke up, the first thing he had said since she had stepped in the museum. _**But we could use this Gibdo until we gain more of them from the Gate of Souls. I can help you with reanimating it. Soon though, see what else he has.**_

One knew they had spent too much time with the demonic voice when the thought of resurrecting dead corpses or herding a group of them into a portal back home - was standard procedure. The difference this time was that she would have to do so in front of a person. Which meant that he’d no doubt, report her actions, which meant trouble for her.

 _Why do you sound reluctant about sending one Gibdo into a portal, when you had no issue with us sending a mob of Redeads?_ She retorted. His cutting silence however, told her she wasn’t going to get a response anytime soon.

“You seem very engrossed on the mummified corpse,” the old man noted. Damn it, she had forgotten she had to speak at some point. She hadn’t exactly interacted with people on a daily basis. “If you’d like, I can show you the one who had compelled me to build this museum in the first place. This heroic warrior was quite a masterpiece, I might add.”

Cia followed him inquisitively. He led her to a small room, however the artifact in question was the only one she had seen so far that had a room for itself. There was a long, display case of glass, this one more elaborate compared to the others she had seen. Inside it was the body of what appeared to be a human skeleton. Except that it was considerably taller than the average human. In its folded arms were two longswords, one club, and one axe.

“During many wars ago,” the old man began. “The Hylian forces were on the brink of losing to the demon army on this valley. Many wounded soldiers had taken sanctuary in the same tower that this warrior was in. Those that survived described in their notes that men and women dwarfed in height in comparison to her. She had a strong stature, and a fierce expression. No one really knew if she was human, despite possessing the features. But what she had been remembered for the most…”

He pointed to the weapons. “She was able to wield all four weapons in battle. Generally two in each hand, but the strength and speed that she swung made it seem like she had four arms. With her might, she held off masses of demons, rendering them unable to get past her in the doorway. By the end of that battle, that tower… _this_ tower was the only fortification that was left standing. She disappeared after, but no one knew her name. So they called her the Tower.”

“My, how heroic,” said Cia, trying to disguise her cynical tone. She was intrigued by this skeleton, but not for the same reason as this man’s. And it seemed that her companion was too.

 _ **Sounds like we got a haul to take home**_ , he commented, as if he was going over groceries. _**But what I want to know is how you intend to deal with this mortal. You could try to control him, but it would likely result in you getting about as far as you got with the prisoner. Unless you plan to take him as prisoner too, but then you’ll be having more mortals asking questions, and given that the monks supposedly watch you frequently from outside, then well… this could be getting into a bit of a mess.**_

 _I have this under control_ , Cia thought determinedly. 

“So tell me,” she said, turning her attention back to the elder. “With all this hard work you’ve done on rebuilding this place, and starting your exhibits… why don’t you have more workers by now? I do find the price you offer to visit here pretty cheap, but if there are so few visitors to start with, how are you benefitting financially?”

He paced about, motioning for them to leave the room, and she continued trailing after him. “Actually, I’ve acquired a modest amount of rupees over the years. I’ve even sold some of the artifacts I’ve found, though it was not without regret. When I began my museum in this location, I couldn’t help but feel affected by the many lives that had been lost, particularly from the last war.”

Then he sighed. “I had lost everyone in my family, so I could relate to those who had lost theirs. Once I began to make money here, I used my earnings to donate to the missing families. That was when I adopted a child who too, had forgone loss. I had always wanted a grandchild, but my daughter had passed away from sickness. And so, the adopted child had become as real of a grandson to me as if he had been my own blood.”

The sorceress surveyed a large fang that had been from the snake skin she had seen earlier. In the days where she would have felt a connection to the goodness that once resided in her heart, she might have been touched by his story. Yet she experienced nothing of the sort. Right now she wanted nothing more than to finish her business here, and move on.

Cia reached for a decorative pouch from around her waist, the sound of rupees jingling inside. “How long do you think it would take to build a keep?” she asked.

“In the valley?” he said, puzzled. “Well, it would depend how much of it still standing. Building one from scratch can take years.”

She shook her head. “That won’t do, that’s too long. But suppose you had many strong workers, working at it every day with no more than a few hours of sleep.”

“I… then of course it would take considerably less time, but that would be cruel to demand such hours of them. Why are you asking me these things, Madam?”

“Life _is_ cruel, darling,” she said nonchalantly, before throwing the pouch next to his feet. “But I’m generous, and I pay well. Twenty thousand rupees are there, to get you started. Go and hire as many workers as possible, and I want their hours maxed for efficiency. I will sketch a drawing of how I want the layout of the valley to be. The first keep will be built surrounding the altar at the summit. And once that is done, I will require nine more keeps. So a total of ten, for now.”

His eyes looked to be bulging. “ _Ten_ keeps? That could take many years to finish! The type of schedule you’re asking for isn’t reasonable either. Sure, most of these men will likely be poor, but they too have families -“

The aura of malice that radiated from her suddenly grew vivid, as she swung her leg violently at the elder, her heel digging sharply into his stomach. He bawled from the brutal contact, his old limbs colliding with a skeleton display, detaching both arms and its skull as everything tumbled to the ground.

“Let me make this clear,” she said dangerously, bending forward to pick up one of the boned arms. “I want ten keeps built, the first being the northern one at the altar. Starting today, you will take the rupees I have provided, and hire as many workers as will be needed for the completion of this task. Failure to do so -“

“Grandpa!”

A young boy who looked no older than eleven burst open the door from the entrance of the museum, likely having heard the recent, noisy commotion from nearby. He rushed to the old man’s side. “Are you okay? What’s… what’s going on?” he glanced from the elder, to the skeleton, and then to the witch.

 _ **What interesting timing**_ , her companion remarked. _**I’m pleased with how you’re doing, so I will assist you with the magic you need for us to finalize everything here. Don’t worry about not being able to control a mortal’s mind yet, the minions we’re going to obtain here shortly will listen to us. Allow me to make use of those two skeleton arms.**_

Slightly confused, but curious, Cia watched as the boned arm from her fingers left her grasp and levitated briefly in the air, the other arm from the ground joining in. Both arms then flew in the direction of where the body of the Tower had been. 

“Get up, Grandpa,” whispered the boy, terrified. “We need to get out of here! Grab my hand.”

Before any of them could do anything, a demented, guttural sound came from the room, followed by a shattering of glass - which could have only been from the glass case that had previously been there. Then came a clunking noise, repeated clunking of armor, getting louder as the figure appeared at the doorway.

There in all its splendor, was the skeletal form of the deceased warrior. Armed with a helmet, guards, shoulder pads, and four weapons in each arm, the Tower hunched, its height still towering over all of them. And now Cia realized what her companion had done with the additional skeletal arms. 

_**Yes**_ , he said loftily. _**If this warrior had once been skilled with all four weapons, then why not bring her to her full potential? With now four arms, she will be able to wield each with ease. Welcome our Stalmaster. She will obey our every command, as will the Gibdo that I will reanimate. Now, to deal with these mortals.**_

“Grab them,” she ordered. “The boy first.”

“Wait!” the elderly man cried out, putting his hands up in the air above his horrified face in a desperate surrender. “I… I will do as you say! I’ll go find workers to start building your keeps immediately!” Cia made a gesture with her hand to signal the Stalmaster to stop, and it hesitated at once. “Just please… don’t hurt my grandson.”

 _ **You see**_ , her companion pointed out. _**There are more ways than just magic to get someone to obey you. In time, you will learn this skill, too. Be aware of all your options, because when one doesn’t work, you will have others to choose from. Mortals are more rebellious in nature and gullible than most creatures, so they can be more complex to control. You always have to look for weaknesses. Threatening families or loved ones as starters, tends to put us in a favorable position.**_

Yes. Cia was most certainly seeing this now. She had already been considering this idea with which to use against Duncan - and now seeing it work to this effect convinced her further, made her feel more in control. 

Now that she had a Stalmaster and soon, a Gibdo, not to mention her Redeads and prisoner back in her manor - she would have to be more discreet again, as if she wasn’t enough already. But it would be a matter of time before the monks would notice her continuous trips away from home. And they too, will have to be dealt with eventually.

“Should anyone ask you what you are building, and why,” Cia told the old man. “Tell them the keeps are for the purpose of expanding your exhibition. So that you’d give a more accurate representation of what war keeps are actually like. Same applies to you, kid,” she narrowed her eyes at the quavering child. “If I hear anything of anyone obtaining information about me, and what I’ve done today, I will make sure the Tower will deal with you both. I’ll be visiting here now and then to check on the progress, so no slacking. Am I understood?”

They both nodded fearfully, as Cia prepared her portals for both herself and her new minions.

* * *

Not yet aware of the dangers lurking within the forest and valley, the king had different issues to face at the moment. The foreign royals had been one of the more prominent matters, which unfortunately tied to his daughter’s decision-making, or lack of. Every day he had to come up with a reasonable explanation to the royals as to why she was not yet ready to pursue a potential engagement with any of them. Most had been considerate enough, but their patience was starting to diminish, and as was his. 

He had tried speaking with Zelda about the subject on multiple occasions, and each time was met with exasperation and haste, for she would constantly try to find a way to excuse herself. He had heard everything from, _“Sorry, Father, I need to study.”_ To _“I have training today.”_ And _“I’ll give it some more thought.”_ The last of which, he wondered if she truly did. It wasn’t that he believed his daughter to not care about the situation… he only wished she would speak to him. 

And not just about the foreign royals, but in general. She was still respectful enough, but she was also distant. This wasn’t a sudden change either, he had noticed her aloofness from him over the years. Since he had pressed the marriage issue however, she had become increasingly elusive. Strangely enough, she appeared to be in a good mood most of the time lately, so he couldn’t tell if he was upsetting her or not.

If he asked Impa for advice, he already knew what she would say. Was he being too easy on her? Did he really have to be more forceful and make a choice for her? Or was he already being difficult enough as it was? He didn’t know. Being a father was incredibly stressful at times, let alone without her mother.

Today he decided that he would opt for a different approach. One that he knew for sure would please her. Perhaps incentive was what he needed to give her. This wasn’t an idea he had ever been fond of either, but if it could help…

He had asked her to meet him at the castle’s front gate, the one that faced the marketplace. Thankfully, she was already there by the time he arrived. Her eyes had been closed, and her back had been leaning against the gate, looking content, and he almost felt guilty about disturbing her seemingly pleasant daydreaming.

“Feels nice outside, doesn’t it?” he greeted, and he sort of wished he hadn’t said that, because he himself, had been the one preventing her from being outside most of her life in the first place. But she didn’t appear bothered, and nodded in agreement, greeting him in return. 

Then she frowned a little. “Is your back doing better? Impa told me you were having those back pains again.”

He had almost forgotten about the back pains. There had been so much in his mind, that he had grown used to it when they did occur, and usually dismissed it. “Yes, well, they could be better, but I’m fine. Impa said I shouldn’t stay up so late in my study, but I can’t help it sometimes.”

“I think neither of us can’t help it but _not_ to listen to Impa sometimes,” Zelda added mischievously. “Let me know if you’re ever in need of more medicine for it too.”

Smiling, he leaned against the gate across from her. Perhaps this wouldn’t go so bad. Or rather, he had expected it to go well, but not entirely - and he was likely over-thinking everything again. No wonder he had back pains. He cleared his throat. 

“Thank you, I will. And… you’ve probably found it strange for me to arrange a meeting place here instead of the castle.”

“A bit, yes. But I like being outside, so I don’t mind it.”

“I’m sure ,” he said knowingly. “It’s why I decided upon here. And because,” he gave a deep sigh. “Starting today, you are free to go anywhere you please.”

In that moment, all that could be heard were the birds chirping in an upbeat mimicry and the far-off yells and laughter of children from the busy town. “What?” she said dubiously. “Did I hear you correctly? By anywhere you mean -“

“I mean anywhere,” he finished. “Inside. Outside. Of course, I would prefer if you could stay near Castle Town - and be home at reasonable times. I’m not forbidding you not to, not for now at least. Hopefully I won’t at all, but yes. I feel that I’ve long owed you this freedom, and I wish I could have granted you this earlier, but circumstances interfered with my fears. And I still have some of those fears, but, I feel much safer now than I did.”

It was like seeing his little girl all over again as her face lit up, and she was practically jumping with joy, thanking him and looking as if she was ready to rush toward Castle Town right away and run through every street. The sight was uplifting to see.

“I only ask one thing,” he added. “If you could allow one of the foreign royals to take you out now and then. I wasn’t comfortable with the idea of them doing so outside the castle at first, and I’m still not, but I’ve spoken to them and they’re fine with a bodyguard accompanying you. If you feel that it’s necessary. I would feel better about it too, at least as a first date, until I’m more at ease with your suitor.”

The cheerfulness that he saw there a moment ago vanished quickly. She hung her head slightly, and his stomach churned. “So is this why you’re allowing me outside?” she said, and he could sense the effort it took for her not to sound cross. “So that I can have dates with them?”

This was going horribly wrong. He knew it wouldn’t end up as nicely as he would have liked, but he had not expected for himself to feel this uncomfortable. “That’s not the only reason!” he said anxiously. “I’ve been planning to allow this for you for a long time, I just didn’t know when - and I thought that maybe, as an afterthought, this could give you a bit more motivation to… to be interested in them.”

“I’m not interested in them.”

“But you haven’t even tried -“

It was her turn to take a deep breath this time. Her voice had gone considerably quieter, though again he could tell that it was taking a strain on her. "Father, I do appreciate the freedom you've given me. I'm not… declining what you wish of me, but, I feel that it would be a waste of time - both on my part, and theirs, to spend time together with the intention of them wanting to marry me. I'm being honest with you here."

“I… Zelda, please, can you at least consider it?” he pleaded. “You don’t even have to think of it as a date. Just let them talk to you, and hear what they have to offer. Can you at least do that?”

The princess gave a reluctant nod. “I will consider it, for the sake of hearing them out. And for your sake. Is this enough for you?”

“It is,” he said in relief, but he didn’t feel much better.

“May I go now? I need to check on a request I’ve made for Eveline.”

“Yes,” he could feel himself growing more depressed when she disappeared. He stood there for awhile, trying to comfort himself, but he was not finding it here. Impa was setting up jousting plans with the foreign royals, and he didn’t feel like bothering her - nor having to deal with them if he did. He didn’t even feel like going back in the castle.

The king wanted a drink. But not in there. He headed toward the direction of Castle Town. The walk and the fresh air would do him some good.

* * *

Volga raised the two-handed axe above his head and slammed it down. The wood atop the stump split, and he repeated the action again, resizing them, before placing them on a pile with more logs he had already chopped. The sun felt pleasant on his bare torso, whereas most humans would have been disgruntled with performing such a task under sunny conditions. But he wasn’t like most humans, and he was fine with that. 

“Geez, you look like you could go on for hours, and you’ve already been at it for awhile,” the owner of the wood chopping store praised. “Really appreciate you doing this. Here are the rupees for your work. You said you’ll come back tomorrow, right?”

The Dragon Knight nodded, accepting the exchange. “I will. With the chill upcoming in a few weeks, I think the castle would appreciate having firewood in advance.” 

“That’s considerate of you, Volga,” came a familiar voice, pleased.

Both Volga and the store owner gave a start, before bowing at once. “Your… Majesty,” he said, taken back. “I wasn’t expecting to find you here.”

“Nor I you,” he said in amusement. “Have you been working here long?”

Volga shook his head, taking his discarded shirt, and putting it on. “No. I made most of my rupees doing smithing back home, sort of like Martel. But since I’ve been spending a lot of time in the castle lately, I figured I could do a few quick jobs in town.”

The king’s face turned worried. “I hope we’ve been paying you enough. Today was supposed to be one of your break days too, wasn’t it? I thought you would want to relax a bit.”

“Oh no, the pay is well,” he reassured him. “And it’s fine, this can be relaxing sometimes.”

_I don’t know how to explain to you that I’m mostly doing this for Zelda. Because as much warmth as I can give her myself, it’s much harder to be at that proximity around the castle. The extra rupees is nice too because I can buy her things now and then._

Volga knew that his newfound intimacy with her had to be kept secret, so he worked with what he could to try and respect, not just Zelda’s wishes, but her father’s. Not that he and Zelda had perfectly succeeded in their attempts, because he could never find it in himself to turn down any affectionate approaches she did to him when they both thought they were safe from wandering eyes, nor did he wish to. Because of how careful they had to be, such moments were uncommon and he felt blessed each time they had the chance. 

“Walk with me.”

Her father didn’t sound like he was ordering him to, but more like an offer. Volga nodded, feeling slightly nervous for some reason, after they bid the shop owner good-bye. What if her father had somehow figured it out already? Or suspected? Had he been too obvious… had Zelda? 

“I’m still shocked to see you in town, Your Majesty,” said Volga, ambling alongside him. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you this far from the castle before.”

The king chuckled. “I don’t blame you. I can’t even remember the last time I had taken a stroll in town. Did you know that when I was around your age, I actually spent most of my time outside? I was quite the adventurer. Don’t let my current bloated self fool you.”

“Really?” he said, surprised. “No, I wouldn’t have guessed. And not because of the bloated thing,” he added hastily. “I’ve just never thought of you as the exploring type. What changed, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Come. I’ll tell you more inside.”

Her father led them both to a tavern, which too, he had not been expecting. Every eye fell upon them when they entered, an echo of gasps, followed by clumsy bowing. So it wasn’t only Volga. No one had been prepared for the King of Hyrule to casually walk into a pub, as most likely presumed that it was such a peasant concept to do for someone as dignified as him, who had wine poured to him for free, anytime he wished.

When the king offered Volga a drink, everyone gaped at him as if he had been offered a piece of land. The Dragon Knight politely declined, and took a seat next to him on the bar stool. Even if he felt like having alcohol right now, he hadn’t been used to it enough to the point he was comfortable drinking it around flammable property. Besides, he felt a bit responsible right now, for the king’s state. To whatever had happened to this man that brought him here. 

Volga had noticed that the bar tender had checked the glass three times before serving the king, probably to make sure it was clean. Everyone was still staring. “Carry on, everyone,” her father waved a hand in annoyance. “I’m not going to banish you all for drinking and chatting.”

The customers gradually returned to doing just that, though Volga could hear well, and he knew most were talking about the old ruler. “But yes, Volga,” he started, taking a tentative sip from his glass. He grimaced at the flavor, but it didn’t stop him from taking another. “I guess you could say that I too, was a foreign royal. When I first came to Hyrule, other men from other kingdoms also came. We were all here to appeal to the queen’s hand for an arranged marriage. Sometimes I still don’t understand why she chose me, I was a complete fool.” He laughed dryly.

A nearby customer, somewhat drunk, turned to him. “You had an arranged marriage? Aren’t those supposed to be horrible?”

Volga listened closely. “They can be, yes,” the king replied. “And neither one of us were keen in the idea of it. But again, arranged marriages around here aren’t as limiting as people seem to think it is. Both still have a choice in who they marry… it’s just that they have to pick from a particular set of options. It’s only horrible when one’s not interested in _any_ of the options. Like my daughter.”

"Maybe she already fancies someone," the same customer suggested. At this, Volga inhaled sharply. It would not be the best idea to have the king dwell on this thought.

“But if neither you nor the queen were interested,” he said breathlessly. “Then how did you two end up marrying?”

The king set down his half-finished glass. “Ah,” he said, and a somewhat glazed expression appeared on his face. “When we first met, there was a competition, starting with archery. I suppose you could say that it was our chance, that is, me and the other foreign royals - to impress her. Ha! But she had a better shot than any of them, made them all look like amateurs. I was the only one who was able to shoot with the precision she had, and this made her furious with me. I was such a smug lad too back then, so I loved showing off. We pretty much competed at everything with each other.”

“A relationship based off competition sounds more like a love and hate thing,” the bar tender mused, bringing him a second glass that he had requested. “How did you two end up together with such a rivalry mentality?” 

Her father not only finished the rest of his glass, but downed the entirety of the second one in minutes. “I wouldn’t say there was ever any hate,” he corrected. “It was just competition, but it was our way of flirting with each other. She injured herself badly one day though, and wasn’t allowed to partake in as many events for awhile. Competing without her didn’t feel the same. And I… I don’t know. I ended up taking care of her. We’ve grown to really appreciate each other’s company, and it became more from there.”

“That’s so sweet,” cooed the bard lady who had been about to play a flute. “I’m sure you two were really happy when she gave birth to the princess.”

Volga didn’t know why, but he felt a wave of concern for the king when he slumped on the chair, motioning for another drink. The topic must have been painful for him, even if he started it - and the enhancing effect of the alcohol was possibly jumbling his mind. “We were. And I’m sure she still would be, if she were here,” he said solemnly. “But that’s a story for another time.”

After he finished the third glass, Volga took it upon himself to keep him from ordering another. “Your Majesty,” he said cautiously. “It might be best for you to ease down on the drinking for now. Your health might not take it too well in such amounts.”

“My health is already in rapid decline anyway,” the king slurred, but he set the glass down. “You’re right though. You. You’re a hard-worker, a trait I admire and wish I could see more of in the foreign royals trying to court my daughter. Volga, I gave her my approval today to go outside whenever she wanted.”

"She must have been really happy about that," the Dragon Knight said in wonder. He could imagine her reaction too, the delight in her eyes and smile. Volga found himself grinning at the thought.

“She was,” he said absently. “But then I ruined it by asking her to spend time with the foreign royals, giving her the option to do so outside, if she wished.” He exhaled heavily, clearly wanting to grab another glass, but heeding to Volga and deciding against it. “Even if she does what I asked, I’m still going to worry. I told her I’d prefer if she had a bodyguard, and can you blame me? What if one of them jumps her when she doesn’t want that? What am I supposed to do, as her father? I don’t trust any of them. And if that wasn’t enough, she probably detests me right now. I know I care too much. But damn it, I’m trying here.”

Volga was starting to understand the reason, or one of the reasons, the king had been down. “I believe you’re doing what you can as her father, and I doubt she detests you. If it would be of comfort to either you or her, or both - Impa or I can fulfill as her bodyguard for this, or for anything that you would need of us. But, I do have a suggestion, if I may.”

“It is of comfort… thank you, Volga. And of course.”

The king looked up at him, attentive despite his drunken stupor. “Well,” Volga began. “If you feel that you’re not getting along with her, then perhaps you can try spending some time with her. Not just inside the castle, but outside too. I’m sure she would enjoy that. And I know you’ll still want to address the matter of the foreign royals, but maybe save that for a time that’s not part of your planned time-spending. If that makes sense.”

“It… it does,” her father went quiet for a moment. Then he beamed. “You know, that’s actually a fantastic idea. Thank you. I will try that. We should probably get going. This is the longest I’ve been away from the castle in ages, and they’ll probably start wondering about me.”

He sat up and stumbled. Volga offered his support, helping the old man, despite his occasional protest, trudging from the tavern back to the castle. 

Never had he envisioned such a situation was to happen, and even more the need he felt to take care of him, in the same sense that he felt for his clan. For a family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to apologize for how long this took. As I said in my previous note, I’ve been (and still am) caught up with life issues, mostly health and financial. I’m trying to work at what I can, and yes, I do still intend to finish writing this story. I appreciate those of you who are sticking with it, even through the long waits. 
> 
> I hope my writing hasn’t been too rusty. I really want to put some attention into the development of the king with both Volga and Zelda. And more development with other stuff will also happen of course. I hope you enjoyed.


End file.
